


A String of Pearls

by Employee645A



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 126,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Employee645A/pseuds/Employee645A
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pre-<i>Carol</i> / <i>The Price of Salt</i> life of Carol from April 1939 to December 1941... with the occasional dabble into the 1950s... and 1960s... and beyond.</p><p>All in the same timeline / headcanon of <i>Built for Two</i>, <i>The Misfits</i>, and <i>Seven Up!</i>.</p><p>The first seventeen chapters are the original story; anything added after Chapter Seventeen is supplemental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love Affair

Thursday, April 13th, 1939  
7:20 p.m.

Carol hated the newsreels. There was too much unnecessary misery going on in the world. Too much happening in Europe. Too much chatter from the pretentious male announcers with tinny, overly-accented, clipped voices. Between pictures, she much preferred to pull out a book from her bag and read for twenty or thirty minutes, occasionally looking up at the screen to take note of what was happening, always with a pained look of disbelief at the world’s events. Why watch it when one could just read about it in a newspaper in greater detail?

There were never more than four people on the upper level, usually couples all paired off or occasionally a solo moviegoer. No one bothered her on the mezzanine. Especially not a weeknight when all the other diligent young women were busy studying in the library or working on some boring choral arrangement or planning the last social gathering of the year. Carol didn’t have time for that sort of thing. She liked the mezzanine and doing her own thing to escape the boredom and daily pressures. It was practically her own little world up on the balcony. She missed New Jersey, she even missed being at her grandparents’ house in Greenwich. She missed being able to escape to New York to go to the theater or the grand movie palaces whenever she desired. Not having to stick to a particularly rigid schedule, but skipping out on a whim whenever it felt right, or without it counting against her allotted nights away from school.

Even with the noise from the movie screen, it was more peaceful and more relaxing there than in her shared room could be. Her roommate could be, boisterous, so to speak, and Carol found that she preferred her own company a couple nights per week. Sure, she had plenty of friends: friends with shared academic interests from classes, proximity-based friends from the hall, and a handful of old friends from Miss Porter’s. There was always the library, but then everyone went to the library when they were trying to evade a roommate for the evening. At least until ten o’clock curfew.

Cartoons though. Carol would always put down her book for a Disney Technicolor or Looney Tunes animated short whenever they popped onto the screen. The anthropomorphic characters always brought a smile to her face and the music also would give her something to hum along to late into the night when she couldn’t put on the radio or her vic to distract her constantly wandering mind. Whenever the light from the screen changed from black-and-white to color, even if it was just for ten minutes or so, Carol couldn’t look away from the bright colors dancing on the screen. 

It certainly wasn’t customary for her to cry either during a cartoon, but she had an inkling when the blue title card for _The Ugly Duckling_ came up that she wouldn’t leave the theater that night as unscathed as she had hoped.

“Does it really have to be that story? Of all the stories they could possibly choose.” Carol sighed, hoping no one around her could hear the disdain in her voice, or her voice at all.

She hated _The Ugly Duckling_ , especially as it brought up memories of her haughty older sister Elaine reading it to her when she was little. One time, when Carol was about five years old, Elaine told her she was actually the ugly duckling of the family with her disheveled hair, constantly scraped knees, and complete lack of decorum. Carol, of course, showed her real decorum when she bit her arm in retaliation and thirteen year old Elaine had to spend the hottest week of the summer wearing long-sleeved dresses until the teeth marks disappeared. No ice cream on Sunday was her punishment; however, it had been well worth it.

Reluctantly, she watched even though she should have just picked up one of her books again and kept on reading. That’s when the watery eyes started; all the vibrant colors on the screen became a messy blur. Then the sniffling began; never-ending sniffles that must have disturbed all the viewers down below. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” 

Carol looked to her right between sobs to see another girl had plopped down in the seat next to her. She gestured toward the screen, pointing at the fluffy white animal. “See? He found his family, and whaddya know, he’s a swan!” she whispered as she leaned over Carol’s shoulder. The girl started to rifle through her jacket pockets, looking for something, holding up a finger to silently say she was just about there with whatever she was getting. She ultimately held out a handkerchief, waiting for Carol to clasp it from her hand, but Carol didn’t move. “It’s clean. I swear.”

Carol softly chuckled as she took it from her. “That’s terribly kind of you.” She dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose, cursing herself for letting a childish cartoon make her so teary in public. “I don’t normally cry during a silly cartoon, but - “

“You don’t have to explain,” she smiled with a dismissive shake of her head. They both finished watching the rest of the cartoon in silence until the next reel started. “And I don’t normally approach a girl I don’t know who’s crying, but given it was a cartoon, I took a leap.”

After clearing her throat, Carol looked over at the girl who was back watching the newsreel. Messy dark brown curls, tucked back behind her ears. And a smile. An endearing smile punctuated by dimples on both cheeks. Like Carol, she seemed taller than most of the girls and her right leg carelessly crossed at the knee with her foot idly tapping back and forth, hitting the brass railing with the toe of her probably well-scuffed saddle shoes. 

As the lighting in the theater changed, Carol could see she appeared slightly different from the typical girls in her classes, definitely lacking the trademark string of pearls that everyone seemed to wear with their angora sweaters. Just an ordinary Harris tweed jacket, wool skirt, and cotton button-down shirt, not terribly different from the others. Most curiously though, she also wasn’t wearing stockings, just ordinary socks, which meant she too had skipped dinner in order to go to the pictures.

There was an air about her, Carol couldn’t exactly pinpoint it. How could she? The girl had barely spoken five sentences to her, but it wasn’t about the things she said or the manner in which she said them. It was just a hint of something different about her, that was a given, and Carol found it an impossible challenge to decipher it, as well as avert her eyes.

“I’ve seen you here before,” the girl said with eyes fixed on the movie screen, “up here, in the mezzanine, I mean. With all your books.”

Carol immediately stopped staring once she started speaking. “Here I was thinking almost always had the whole space to myself.” She reached down to grab the candy bar on top of her book then sat up straight in her seat. “Not that I mind, of course,” she was sure to quickly add before opening the candy bar wrapper and breaking off a piece to offer her.

“Thanks. I skipped out on dinner.” The girl studied Carol as she bit into the chocolate and sweetly smiled at her. “I’m Harriet.”

Carol took a bite of chocolate and hastily chewed, placing her hand in front of her mouth just before she swallowed. “Carol.”

“Carol, hmm?” she inquisitively mused. “Everyone calls me Harrie though. My family’s always called me Harrie.”

“Everyone’s always called me Carol.”

“Well, Carol, I only brought the one handkerchief, so I hope _Love Affair_ isn’t too much of a tearjerker.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Carol glanced back towards her bag, wondering if she perhaps had one stashed into a corner that she wouldn’t easily see in the now dark cinema.

“Don’t worry about it.” Harrie leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her stomach as the movie began and her attention shifted to the flickering images.

* * *

“Well?” Harrie open-endedly stated and looked to her left. Carol was finishing her second round of crying for the night. If Harrie hadn’t shown up with a handkerchief, Carol would have easily been crying into the sleeves of her sweater. “Aww, shucks. Just… let it all out.” She blew her nose a final time and sniffled, not moving from her seat as she collected herself. 

Harrie patiently watched as Carol stopped crying, then raised her arm to look at her watch. “Say, it’s just after nine-thirty. We gotta be heading back.” Carol had lost track of the time and checked the space around her seat to make sure nothing was left behind. Harrie waited, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, knocking the heel of her shoe against the side of the staircase. “So, you like going to the pictures?” Harrie asked as soon as they began making their way toward the staircase to the lobby.

Carol shrugged. “I like to go once or twice a week. You?”

“Same,” Harrie nodded, “but you know, exams coming up and all. Ugh, I really don’t want to study.”

“What are you studying?”

“I’m majoring in Chemistry. I’m a Junior.”

In the eight months since she started college, she hadn’t met many others studying science. Maybe she should just get out a whole lot more. Most of the others in her circle were studying literature, art, languages, or history. Either way, Carol found it most impressive. “Chemistry?”

“Yup.” Harrie chirped as she opened the door for Carol.

“I’m not too good with anything science related. Or math, I should add.” she admitted, thinking about the oversized bag she was carrying with nothing but _La Chanson de Roland_ and an art history text that had no business being so incredibly heavy. There was also the Algebra book in there from earlier in the morning that didn’t enthuse her in the slightest, but that was a different matter altogether.

“Say no more, let me guess!” Harrie enthusiastically declared as she squinted her eyes, thinking. “Okay, if I’m right, you treat me to a movie and popcorn next week.”

Before they crossed the street, Carol joked, “And if you’re wrong?”

“I won’t be wrong.” Harrie confidently grinned. 

Carol smiled back and tightened her hands around the bag she carried. Harrie looked her up and down again, glanced at the sag and weight of the bag flung over her shoulder that Carol struggled to keep in line. “Okay, okay, I think - no - but there’s - “ Harrie couldn’t finish a full sentence to save her life as her mind tried to unravel Carol based on her looks and how she carried herself with that heavy bag over her shoulder. “ - hang on a moment, I think I got it. French.”

Carol lamented with a shake of the head. “No, sorry.” Guess that means no movie with her next week, she thought to herself.

Harrie looked back at Carol’s bag with an amused scowl. “I was pretty certain, darn it.”

“I do study French though,” Carol admitted to try and ease Harrie’s partially wounded ego, “but it’s actually History of Art.” It was pretty close though when she took a moment to think about it.

“So I’m partially correct!” Harrie cheerfully exclaimed with a gesture of her hands raised in the air. Carol tugged again at the bag hanging from her shoulder, trying to get a better grip on it as she tried to keep up with Harrie’s long strides. “So I bet you could translate for me all those pleasantries Michel was telling his grandmother in that scene on Madeira.”

“I suppose I could. However, I could not tell you and have that be the consequence of guessing my major incorrectly. If you recall, you didn’t tell me what would happen if you guessed wrongly.”

“I didn’t.” Harrie stopped at a corner and put her hands back into the jacket pockets to ward off the chill. “I’m headed this way. You going over there then?” 

Carol gestured to the street at her left. “I am.” 

“It was nice meeting you, Carol.” The shoulder bag slipped again and Carol struggled for a moment as she extended her hand. “I’ll see you around here some other time, I suppose. Or campus. Logically.” They shook and immediately took one step back from each other, standing in place, neither one moving an inch.

“Definitely, or… “ Carol scrunched up her face as she trailed off without anything more to add; sadly the reality of it was she just didn’t know what to say to Harrie. “... wh- what about Thursday next week? Six o’clock? It’ll be _Wuthering Heights_.”

Harrie took a deep breath, repeatedly nodding before speaking. “Alright.”

“I’ll see you then.” Carol began walking away, then looked back over her shoulder and stopped. “Good night, Harriet.” 

Harrie paused and smiled, finally able to see Carol properly, illuminated by the soft glow of the street lamps as she headed back to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMIOC0st2E0) for _Love Affair _(1939) dir. Leo McCarey__


	2. Wuthering Heights

Thursday, April 20th, 1939  
8:15 p.m.

Yet again, Carol felt as though she had embarrassed herself by crying so much in front of Harrie. Was she always this sentimental when she went to the movies? She couldn’t recall having seen such a back-to-back string of pictures where she left the theater in tears. At least this week she had remembered to bring along her handkerchief, and one extra to spare. Harrie might have been chuckling a bit to herself watching Carol cry again, but she meant no harm by it. 

“And how does _Wuthering Heights_ the movie compare to _Wuthering Heights_ the book?” Harrie asked as they picked up their jackets and bags from the seats next to them. She had waited until Carol could compose herself before moving from her seat.

Carol raised an eyebrow. “It leaves a lot to be desired. It’s terribly romantic and all, but… “

“But?”

Pulling her bag up onto her shoulder, Carol adjusted the strap and searched for the words she wanted to say. “Sometimes I find the movie version cuts out key components to the development and understanding of the characters.” 

Harrie stood with her head tilted to one side, watching Carol struggle with her bag again. “I’m kind of hungry. Would you like to go to the diner around the corner? You can explain more about this book versus movie thing to me.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Harrie fiddled with the straw from her milkshake, blending the ice cream and whipped cream together into an even frothier concoction. “Okay, since about half the book and a few main characters seem to have been chucked into the bin, what did you actually like about it then? Laurence Olivier?” Lifting her head, Harrie wagged her eyebrows and stuck out her tongue.

“He was so filthy for most of the movie.” Carol replied. “He did clean up real good though in the end.”

“That he did.”

Carol could certainly play along like all the other times she went to the movies and talked with her friends after the show. Just play along that the male leads were nothing but dreamy and gorgeous. They certainly were; however, they were never the ones who first caught Carol’s attention when the curtains went up. 

Frankly, she hadn’t been honest with anyone, let alone herself, since she arrived on campus in September. But their opinions did matter and they did shape how she presented herself every day: Clean moccasins, neatly folded white socks, plaid skirt, form-hugging sweater. Just a mirror image of all the other girls who paraded in and out of the classrooms.

That ridiculous pearl necklace her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday that she felt compelled to wear all the time. It made her feel like a stuffy old housewife before she had ever even kissed another boy. It wasn’t as though anyone would check on her for wearing the necklace, it became a de facto part of getting dressed every morning. She put it on around her neck the same way all the other girls did.

The debutante ball at the Ritz-Carlton in December hadn’t helped either. She had never felt so on display in her whole life, so vulnerable and so present solely for the consumption of others. She was nothing more than an eighteen year-old pretty face. A prized trophy for some eligible young man.

No one cared that she was interested in her studies. That she had made High Honors her first term, despite that horrible Algebra class. Or that she skipped two years of college French, better than some of the other girls who were actually majoring in the subject.

Most noticeably, Harrie didn’t give the impression that she needed or wanted to hear a response like all those other girls, so why keep lying about it? Harrie didn’t want to hear what she had probably already heard hundreds of times before. Be honest, she told herself, you’re an adult, you can express your opinion just as much as anyone else. 

“But - “ Carol reached for her drink, buying herself an extra moment of courage. Her breath hitched before she continued speaking. “ - it was really Merle Oberon who caught my attention.”

There. She said it.

“Oh?” 

Carol could easily tell that Harrie was surprised by the frankness of her reply, leaning forward with an elbow on the table top and resting her head on her chin. “She was especially lovely, particularly in those scenes where she wasn’t all dressed up in those awful haughty dresses.”

“So you like the natural, wild, wind-swept, running-along-the-moors look then?”

Carol sat back with her drink in hand and reflected. She couldn’t exactly tell how Harrie knew what to ask, like she knew what buttons to push to get the appropriate response from her. “Yes, more natural. No pretensions whatsoever about her. She seemed happier then too.”

An in-depth description of the actress’ beauty could have gone on and on, however Carol wasn’t quite ready to bore her new friend with her thoughts, and wasn’t sure if Harrie even wanted her to talk about that. Perhaps a change of subject and a deflection of the conversation onto her would be better. “How about you? What did you think, Harriet?”

Harrie smiled and picked up her sandwich, taking a bite as she thought about what she wanted to say. She wasn’t sure if she was smiling at the question or the fact that Carol was ultimately so stubborn as to not call her by her nickname like everyone else. 

“You’ll laugh,” she began, covering her mouth with her hand then swallowing, “really, you will. I couldn’t get into it because no one had a Yorkshire accent, and little Heathcliff didn’t sound as though he was yanked from the streets of Liverpool.”

“I am laughing.” Carol agreed. “It’s funny to me that you picked up on that.”

“See? Told you.”

“How do you know about the accents?”

“My nan lives in Harrogate, up in North Yorkshire.”

“You’ve been there then?”

“Several times, especially when I was little. You?”

“No, I’ve never been to Europe. Not sure when I will make it at this rate.”

Harrie sighed, then took another bite of her sandwich. “I bet you were banking on your junior year over there.” 

Carol nodded. “I really was. I guess that’s why I chose to major in Art instead of a language, and I don’t speak Spanish so going to Mexico is not in the cards either.” Carol looked back down at her plate, morose at the fact that her plans had changed. She shouldn’t have let what was happening there dictate her academic future, but if she couldn’t go to Paris or Florence to study, what was the point in majoring in a language without the practical experience?

In the brief moment she felt sorry for herself, there was a tap on her shoes. Harrie was tapping the toe of her saddle shoes against Carol’s moccasins to get her attention. Carol raised her head to see Harrie’s bright smiling face looking right back at her. 

“It’s alright, Carol. Someday, you know?” Harrie always seemed to have a smile whenever Carol needed it. 

“Someday.”

* * *

After nearly five minutes of arguing who would pay the bill, Harrie finally won out, mentioning she had lost the bet the previous week and did, in fact, owe Carol at least dinner. They could have just as easily split it, but Harrie outright insisted, pulling out some quarters from the change purse in her jacket pocket. 

There wasn’t anyone else in the diner as they packed up to leave, or outside, unusually quiet for a pleasant spring evening. The sidewalks of town were again quiet for them to head back toward campus.

“I got something to ask you, Carol.” Harrie mentioned once they were outside.

“Of course.”

“So the thing is, I still must pass the French reading test for graduation.” Harrie embarrassingly admitted as she reached up to scratch at her neck. “I was wondering, since you’re already taking a Junior French lit class and good at that sort of thing, do you think you could help me study for it? I’ve failed twice already.”

“We’ll see that you pass then, yes?” Carol smiled. “You can clue me in then on what it’s like.” 

“Thanks, you’re a peach. All my friends are science types who took German or Latin - except for me.” 

“Don’t mention it. Thank you for trusting me.” Carol quietly confessed as they made their way along the lamplit path. 

There were still fifteen minutes before they had to be in their rooms and studying for the night. Despite the urgency to get back, neither one rushed too much and decidedly took their time as they walked. “I like talking to you, Harriet.” 

“Likewise,” remarked Harrie. “That and you’re not all caught up with your big debut and what dress you’ll wear and how many suitors you’ll have lined up around the block.” 

Carol stopped walking, thinking about the phony young men, the overeager and overbearing mothers, most specifically how she felt being paraded around for the amusement of others. Harrie noticed the moment Carol was no longer at her side and turned back. She stood directly under a lamp, a hand at her throat, fingering the pearls her wore.

“I’m not caught up in it because I already went through all of that nonsense back in December.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sometimes I really say the wrong thing and I should probably just keep my damn mouth shut - “

“No, it’s fine. You’re fine. Don’t curb yourself.” Carol pleaded as she brushed her hand against Harrie’s. “You couldn’t have known. Besides, that kind of thing isn’t important to me.”

“I didn’t know you were a - you know - New York City debutante and all.”

Carol laughed. “Not a very successful one, mind you. Remember, I cry at children’s cartoons and weepy romances. Speaking of which… “ Carol slid her bag in front of her, opening it to pull out a hardbound book. When she opened it, there was Harrie’s monogrammed handkerchief from the week before, freshly laundered and pressed between the pages of Carol’s History of Art book. “... I believe this is yours?”

“It is.”

Taking the handkerchief between her fingers, Carol held it out for Harrie to grasp. She took it and held it in her hand, admiring the care Carol had taken in just a simple cotton square of fabric. “I’ll see you Sunday at one. And bring your conjugation book.”

Harrie still saw the grin on Carol’s face the moment before she turned to walk away, and as soon as her back was turned, raised the handkerchief to her nose to inhale Carol’s perfume before tucking it into her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmuMd4FnnYo) for _Wuthering Heights_ (1939) dir. William Wyler


	3. Only Angels Have Wings

Tuesday, May 30th, 1939  
9:30 a.m.

It was looking as though it would be an unusually pleasant day out, warm enough that the bedroom windows were wide open and the curtains billowing in the morning breeze in preparation for the mid-afternoon sunlight that would heat the room.

No one was outside wandering around, nothing but silence. It was too early for the eight o’clock exam takers to be done and too early for the panicked ten-thirty exam takers to be out pacing around the walkways while reciting formulas, declensions, and historical dates en route to their tests.

Carol padded around the room barefoot, gathering her belongings together to study with some of the other girls from her History of Art class. She still had twenty minutes before she had to head out. Twenty minutes in which she could curl up on the bed with her copy of _Rebecca_ that she had desperately been trying to finish for over a month. Reading something for fun would be a welcome turn from the studying for exams that she had been doing for what seemed like weeks on end.

Resting against the pillows of her bed, Carol picked up her book and started to read from the bookmarked page. By the time she was two pages in, she realized that she had no idea what she was reading and had forgotten every detail to the plot of the story. Discouraged, she tossed the book to the side and crossed her arms over herself, sinking down onto the bed and shutting her eyes.

She knew what the real problem was; however, she was simply too terrified to do anything about it. Or was it that she was too stubborn? Carol had always felt as though there was something different about her. Just a little something that varied ever so slightly from all the others. Those first couple of years at Miss Porter’s, watching how the older girls moved and behaved, she was certainly intrigued. Her eyes would discreetly follow them, remembering their movements so she could mimic them later. They were pretty to look at, memorable even, but were definitely not as inclined as Carol.

Except for one girl.

During summer vacation while back in New Jersey, they kissed one night after the movies, right in the front seat of her parents’ Dodge parked in the driveway of Carol’s house before she dropped her off.

It was only a kiss on the lips.

And no tongue, she reminded herself with some disdain.

Neither of them regretted it, or at least they never told each other that they did, but Carol could tell the girl was nothing more than curious as she had never kissed a boy before and for whatever reason, Carol was the next best thing.

Maybe that’s all it was: The next best thing. But Carol wasn’t interested in boys and definitely not the young men she had met at the debutante ball in December. Three young men had asked permission to write her at school, yet in the end only one actually did and Carol could barely even make out his terrible penmanship. She had curtly replied that he could call on her at home during the summer and left it at that.

Nonetheless Carol knew all-too-well the feeling, the one where she had undeniable, overwhelming attraction towards one of her acquaintances.

Female acquaintances.

A specific female acquaintance.

A certain Harriet who was almost two years older, majoring in Chemistry, loved going to the pictures, and had the cheeriest disposition of anyone she had ever met.

Harrie might not have been the greatest at French, but she could get along alright reading it. She excelled in her field of study, and all things math and science, and could recite the Periodic Table backwards and forwards. She knew a little about a lot, and adored discussing with passion what she had recently read, heard, or seen.

Of course Carol loved best how they could talk to one another, even if it was about the most banal topic on the planet. She had never had that with another person before, perhaps her father, but not from among her female friends. Even some of her college friends weren’t too interested in reading for pleasure or discussing anything that they considered “heavy.”

Harrie was exceedingly charming, physically somewhere between an enticing sensual goddess and an adorably cute young woman. That made no sense, Carol chided herself, how could she possibly be both? She then smiled when she understood it, thinking about those dimples she liked so much, the dimples made her the adorably cute young woman that reminded her how sweet and friendly she was. But then those curves - those legs - Carol corrected herself, all she wanted to do was run her hands up and down them to feel their smoothness and tease all the way up.

What was the point? Carol could spend all day dreaming about it, but the likelihood that there was anyone else out there who felt the way she did, let alone Harrie, who would reciprocate those kinds of feelings was slim to none. She could hope though.

She could keep telling herself that every time they sat down across from one another at the diner and Harrie’s legs - the very same ones she couldn’t stop thinking about running her hands up - would outstretch into Carol’s space, brushing against her own. Harrie never moved them once their legs skimmed against one another, like she had been waiting for Carol to do something about it all along. Instead, she said nothing, and just let the momentary shiver overtake her as they touched.

Then only few days earlier, when they had been studying together in the common area, sitting beside one another as they translated, hunched over the same copy of _Le Rouge et le Noir_ , Harrie had stopped writing and silently pointed with her pencil to a word she didn’t understand. Carol mindlessly looked over at the stilled pencil, moving even more into her space without noticing Harrie lean her head in Carol’s direction, and then translated it by whispering into her ear as to not disturb the others in the room. Carol wasn’t playing at anything, she wasn’t even trying to be even remotely tempting. She could tell Harrie didn’t expect her to get that close because when she turned her head to thank her, Carol was still lingering over her shoulder and Harrie’s eyes couldn’t decide whether to look into Carol’s eyes or at her lips.

Or maybe Harrie was only curious like the other girl had been. Harrie wasn’t seventeen though and she also never mentioned having a beau or being interested in a specific fellow in the six weeks Carol had gotten to know her.

A friendly knock at the door roused her from her thoughts. She jumped off the bed and walked over to open door, pleasantly surprised to see Harrie standing before her with a tremendous smile, accentuating her dimples even more than usual.

“I passed the French test!” she beamed.

Carol blinked a few times as she heard Harrie tell her the good news. She was speechless, motionless, and ultimately, breathless, as she gazed upon her. There was no other way for Carol to explain how she felt at that moment, completely awe struck at the beautiful young woman standing in her doorway, the very one she had been thinking about for the past ten minutes. Her short hair was neatly parted down the middle, almost flattened against her head until it fanned out into a tangle of curls at the sides. She wore her usual blazer, skirt and collared shirt, but that day she could see Harrie had undone a couple of extra buttons of her shirt, revealing the skin below her throat where Carol could see a teardrop amber pendant hanging from a silver chain.

Suddenly Carol realized more than a moment had gone by without her acknowledging her friend’s achievement, not to mention she yet to invite her into the room.

“I knew you could, Harriet! Congratulations.” she finally responded. “Come in, have a seat. I was just getting things together to go study with some classmates at ten.” Carol stepped to the side, allowing Harrie to enter the room.

“What time are you done studying with your pals?” Harrie took a seat on the edge of Carol’s bed, watching her neatly stack books on her desk. She crossed her legs, letting her left ankle turn in circles in time with music neither of them could hear.

“Oh, I should be finished at around one, then lunch from one to two, so after two, I suppose.”

 “You want to catch a matinee of _Only Angels Have Wings_ then?”

Carol side eyed the stack of books on her desk. Her next exam was just History of Art, and she already felt confident enough with the material to not have to spend the enter day reviewing everything, especially if she was spending the next three hours revising with friends. “I’d like that.”

The two of them remained silent after that: Carol preoccupied with the items on her desk and Harrie seated on the bed. Carol picked up the blue celluloid fountain pen from the stack of books and unscrewed the cap and then the barrel of the pen. After opening the jar of ink next to the pencil holder, she took out the plunger and dipped it into the jar, drawing up the liquid into the reservoir. Harrie watched, entranced by the way in which Carol could make the simplest of everyday tasks seem so elegant. She didn’t even get a smudge of ink on her fingers in the process.

“I’ve noticed that you always call me Harriet and not Harrie.”

Carol looked over at her friend, worried that she had upset her. She hadn’t even thought about it really, not with all the other things on her mind. She was just Harriet to her, not Harrie. Everyone called her Harrie. Why should she be like everyone else? Harriet rolled off her tongue much easier than Harrie could, even with the extra syllable.

“I do?”

“You do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, actually,” Harrie started, then stood to walk over to Carol’s desk, “I like it. I really like how you call me Harriet.”

As Harrie got closer to the desk, Carol got visibly more nervous, quickly standing up to look for the copy of her book she had left on the bed. What was she doing? Carol kept thinking about them studying for the test the week before, and then looked back at Harrie. As her eyes shifted lower, that necklace with the pendant resting against the very spot she wanted to place her lips kept demanding her attention.

“Your necklace is lovely.”

Harrie stopped to look down and lift up the pendant for Carol to see. “Thanks. It was a birthday present from my nan.”

There were only a few more days in the term and then they’d be going home for almost three months. That would be plenty of time to get over a crush like this, she told herself. Maybe it wasn’t only a crush. Maybe it was something else. Either way, Carol wanted to know. Walking back toward her desk as though she was moving in to get a closer look at the amber pendant, Carol stopped in front of Harrie, resting her arms at her side, uncertain if she was making the right decision. Before she could second guess herself once more, Carol reached for the lapels of Harrie’s jacket to draw her flush with her body, then pushed both of them against the bedroom door.

“Harriet… I… “ Carol whispered as their eyes met, and then their lips. A pair of hands wrapped around Carol’s waist to hold her tighter and encourage her closer, and that’s when she knew Harrie wanted to kiss her just as badly as she did. Once Carol let go of the lapels, her hands wandered down to rest on Harrie’s hips, toying with the waistband of the skirt and the one top button at the side. Carol then stopped, next shifting her head to the side of Harrie’s neck, darting light kisses along the same path as the thin silver chain she wore, teasing the exposed skin along the neckline of her shirt.

Carol made no effort to unbutton her shirt or skirt, neither did Harrie for that matter, but the feeling of Carol’s wet kisses and hands was too much. Harrie couldn’t suppress a moan from the sensation of the lips at her throat or the hands tracing the outline of her hips over her skirt. The caress of Carol’s lips replaced the coolness of the amber and silver against her skin. At the first noise Harrie made, Carol urgently brought her lips back up to quiet her.

“Shhh,” Carol breathed against her ear as Harrie released a final muffled whimper as she caught her breath and quieted herself. Harrie adoringly looked into Carol’s eyes, pressed her locked hands firmly against Carol’s lower back and flipped her around so Carol was now pressed against the door. Releasing her grip on Harrie, Carol raised her hands to her face, brushing away Harrie’s curls that had fallen in front of her lips. Harrie leaned into her hands, placing tender kisses against the palms, causing Carol to shudder. As Carol caressed her cheeks, Harrie leaned in to embrace her, softly taunting, “I thought so,” before seizing Carol’s lips with her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz-vDLCOzhk) for _Only Angels Have Wings_ (1939) dir. Howard Hawks


	4. An Affair to Remember

Wednesday, December 18th, 1957

Therese didn’t think Carol would mind when she took the black fountain pen from her purse. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why the lovely pen was always in her purse and not kept on her desk. Maybe she frequently used it at work and liked having it in the purse she carried on her for upwards of fifty hours a week, if not more. It was probably just as easy for Carol to reach for her purse rather than open a desk drawer, Therese told herself.

Before the end of the year, there were Christmas cards for Therese to sign for colleagues at the _Times_ and her friends who she hardly saw any more with her constantly busy job. There was also Carol’s special Christmas card that she wanted to very nicely and neatly write out with a decent pen, so Therese again assured herself that borrowing her fountain pen for the day would be no big deal, especially when she was in the office on a day when Carol happened to be home and not feeling well.

In her saddlebag, Therese packed her cards and Carol’s special red one. Before she headed out, Carol asked her to bring the purse to her in bed, even offering her five dollars for lunch for the next couple of days since she wouldn’t be able to do any cooking or meet up with her in the middle of the day. Despite the sweet gesture, Therese declined, insisting that there was too much for her to do around the office before the holidays and she would rather have a snack and get extra tasks completed. Therese offered to put her purse back on the credenza on her way out, and gave Carol a kiss on the forehead, determined not to catch whatever she had before the holidays.

When lunch rolled around, Therese could finally start writing up the handful of cards she had and reached for the lovely fountain pen in her purse. She had become so used to typing everything or scribbling on photos with pencils that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to use one of them. Not since she was in school did she use a fountain pen; certainly never anything as nice as Carol’s. Therese looked at it, noticing a fair few scuffs on the celluloid and a light dent or two on the gold clip. Carol’s probably had this forever, Therese reflected.

Prior to touching pen to paper, Therese tested the ink flow, the thickness of the nib, and how the ink bled into a small corner of the paper she wanted to write on. Everything looked good and she pulled out the first card to start writing. Her mind drew a blank as to what to say to people she already saw practically every single day. What do people usually write on Christmas cards? Usually Carol wrote them out or helped her with that sort of thing, but Therese didn’t want to trouble her with that this year.

She turned her head to the left to see if anyone from the adjacent office could look in on her, but everyone was at lunch. Therese happily smiled to herself without anyone watching, remembering writing out the card when she returned the gloves to Carol. She hadn’t even signed her name, instead reducing herself to her institutional employee code number like a prisoner. Recalling the contents of that card and how it, in part, helped her get to the very seat she sat in at that moment, gave her new inspiration for the cards she wrote to her friends. Sweet, funny, witty, she knew she could do that.

By the time she had only two more cards remaining (including the special one for Carol), her colleagues started milling back into the office and causing a commotion, breaking Therese’s concentration. She capped the pen first, keeping it on the desk as she scurried to hide all of the cards in bright red envelopes inside her bag. Some of her co-workers began to pop by her desk, clamoring for “Belivet” repeatedly. In her haste and distraction, Therese got all the cards in the bag, but left the pen on her desk next to the typewriter.

When Therese returned to her desk, the first thing she noticed was that the pen was missing. She looked in the drawers, lifted up the typewriter, checked under every notebook, even in the trash bin to make sure it didn’t somehow slide in there. “Guys, c’mon. Where’s my pen? Who’s got it?” Therese loudly announced for the room to hear. The young man sitting at the desk behind her stepped forward, apologizing for taking it, but the phone rang and it had been the closest writing instrument he could find. It was clipped to the ring of his spiral-bound notebook, and instead of sliding the clip up the spiral to release the pen, he pulled it with a robust tug of his hand, breaking the gold clip on the pen cap.

“Oh, fuck.” Therese inaudibly muttered.

“Uh, sorry?” he offered as he handed the pen, the cap, and the clip to Therese. She couldn’t even look at him; but it wasn’t like he knew the pen didn’t belong to her. He probably thought he just destroyed “some ugly old pen.” Therese swiped the pen from his hand, twisting the cap back on and then placed the broken clip and pen in her bag. 

Therese looked at her watch, noting that it was almost four. That should be enough time to pop into a nearby jewelry store and look into getting the pen repaired. “I have to go.”

“I’ll pay for it!” he shouted as Therese walked out, raising a hand in the air signaling he needn’t bother.

* * *

The good news: It could be fixed.

The bad news: It would take two days.

Therese walked in the front door ten minutes earlier than usual: grumpy, tired, and disappointed. She tossed her bag to the floor, threw her coat and hat on a hook, and went in search of Carol to check in on her. It was quiet, almost too quiet, especially with Rindy at a friend’s after school for dinner and an early evening theater performance. As she walked further into the apartment, Therese picked up on the scent of bread toasting and found Carol in the kitchen making tea and spreading butter and jam onto a piece of toast.

“Good to see you up eating again.” Therese leaned forward to kiss her cheek, then brushed away some dark crumbs from the corner of Carol’s mouth. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thanks. Would you like tea? I just made some.”

“Sounds good.” Carol pushed forward the cup she had made for herself and let Therese fix it as she liked while she poured herself a fresh cup. She removed the silver strainer then sat down across from Therese to have her snack, which was probably more of a dinner for her at this point with her queasy stomach. After taking a quick sip of the hot tea, Carol perked up remembering something. 

“Darling, I wanted to ask you… “ Carol trailed off, then thought of the other slice of bread in the toaster, getting up to pull it out before it was too burnt. “Have you seen my black pen around? I could have sworn it was in my purse.”

Therese’s shoulders sank against the seat. Before she could start explaining, she sipped her tea and looked directly at Carol, who was not completely paying attention to her. Therese grasped her hand and blurted out, “Yeah, I have your pen… and it broke.”

Carol put down her teacup and blankly stared at Therese for a minute. “What?”

“The clip, just the clip is broken, but I took it - “

“You weren’t supposed to touch the pen.”

“I’m sorry, Carol, I had no idea.”

“You weren’t supposed to touch it.” she slowly reiterated.

“I’m sorry. I’m getting it repaired, I’ll cover the cost of any damage, and - “

Carol laughed, brushing her hair back and swiping fingers over her neck. She stood to go to the counter to get her cigarettes and lighter. “It’s not the cost, dearest, it’s… “ Carol lit a cigarette and put the pack away, all without offering one to Therese, which she typically and readily did. Rather than return to the chair, she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Therese by herself. 

When she realized she was alone in the room, Therese followed her out. “Look, I’m sorry I took it without asking, I really had no idea.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a pen, right?”

Therese paused, watching Carol take deeper and deeper drags on her cigarette to calm herself down. “Clearly it’s not. You’re in a tizzy over it.”

“No, no, It’s ‘just a pen,’” she mockingly insisted.

“Okay.” Therese could leave it there, but she wanted to know why Carol was acting like this. She had never seen her this upset before. Except for that one time in Waterloo when she took the gun from her suitcase to chase after that detective… 

Therese’s eyes widen at that memory and she took a step back from where Carol stood. She couldn’t help the curiosity though as Carol seemed to make a big deal out of the whole incident. Carol wasn’t usually unhinged at the drop of bad news. “Can I ask, why is it important to - ”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But - “

“It’s just very - meaningful - to me.”

“But - “

“No,” Carol firmly stated.

Therese pressed further and further until Carol shut her eyes and simply walked away into the bedroom and then shut the bathroom door. Therese was visibly upset as well, forgetting that it was her fault that the pen broke, but this now had blown up into an argument concerning a much greater issue. It had been at the forefront of her mind for the past few months, how Carol didn’t open up about things. She always wanted to know about Therese, about her childhood, her friends, her work, her favorite things; however, she never really reciprocated. The subject was usually changed in a matter of moments, distracted by something else at hand. Yes, it was just a pen, but there was clearly more to it. She could not understand how Carol could be so mysterious about something so trivial.

“You always ask about me, about my past. What about yours? You’re just so guarded sometimes. I’m your… “ Therese didn’t know what to refer to herself as, and left it trailed off into nothing. “I love you, you can trust me.” 

“I love you too, but that’s not the issue right now. There are lots of things from my past I don’t want to rehash and don’t want to think about, Therese.” Carol shouted through the door. Therese heard the water running for the bathtub and Carol opening the medicine cabinet to shuffle around for whatever she needed. Footsteps approached the door and Therese jumped back as if the door might swing open and Carol walk out into the bedroom. The door didn’t open and all she heard was Carol quietly speak. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be by myself right now.”

Carol had never told her she wanted to be by herself before. Therese threw her hands up and made her way to the front door where she had dropped her bag and her coat less than thirty minutes earlier. Back on goes her wool coat and the plain beret, then she headed out the door without looking back.

Since it was now after five in the evening, the streets were not only filled with people trying to make their way home from work, but also throngs of last-minute Christmas shoppers. It was a dangerous combination of people wandering the streets of Manhattan this time of year, Therese thought. She walked in loops, around the neighborhood blocks a few times, waiting for some of the retail shops to close so that she could wander onto the more brightly lit Fifth Avenue, maybe even see the tree at Rockefeller Center. There were still lots of people out, but the crowds were dissipating and heading home for dinner or out to the theater. When the wind chill picked up, Therese knew it was time to head indoors, but she was not quite ready to go home. There was always the automat, or Scotty’s. Or the movies, especially the one closest to the apartment that was good and heated with comfortable seating. Therese made her way to the movie theater and thought about what sort of snack she would get when she got there.

* * *

Carol walked into the theater ten minutes after the movie began, unphased by her typical late arrival. She knew perfectly well that _An Affair to Remember_ was basically a carbon copy of _Love Affair_ , only different actors and the magic of Technicolor, so there wasn’t too much that she could have possibly missed. The brightness of the screen illuminated the auditorium, allowing her to see members of the audience with ease. Along the right-hand aisle, Carol spotted Therese sitting by their usual seats.

She cringed watching a young man sitting a seat over from Therese trying to talk to her and get her attention. Therese angled her head towards him a couple times, not saying anything or acknowledging him, but she knew what he was playing at. What was wrong with these young people? It didn't seem to take too long for Therese to admit to herself that she had finally had enough and got up to move across the aisle to another seat closer to the screen.

The young man started gathering his belongings, making like he was going to follow Therese over to the other side of the theater, but not if Carol could help it. She rushed over to the seat behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” Carol said as she leaned forward, “I couldn’t help but overhear you harass that young lady there.”

He turned around and snickered at Carol, reeking of alcohol. “Mind your own goddamn business, lady.”

“She is my goddamn business.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” he sneered, “she your ward or something?”

“No, but - “

“So mind your own goddamn business.”

He was still eyeing Therese and again got up to try and follow her over at her new seat. Carol reached out with a gloved hand to the back of the young man’s shirt collar and tie, and tightly yanked him down, pinning him by the neck against the metal rim of the chair. Apparently shifting pieces of furniture when absolutely necessary had given Carol more upper body strength than anticipated. “Go over there near her and I swear I’ll saw your balls off with the rusty keys in my purse.” 

Carol gave him a moment to let it sink in and begrudgingly let him go when he started coughing and the young man scrambled to his feet, brushing past her and scampering up the aisle out of the theater. 

The moment he left, Carol calmed herself down and made her way to the seat next to Therese to sit beside her. She gripped her hand and whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry about earlier; I acted horribly and I will work on being more open with you.” 

“I’m sorry I took the pen from your purse without asking.” Therese squeezed her hand back and rested her head against Carol’s shoulder, never knowing that Carol had prevented the young man from further harassing her.

* * *

Poor Therese found herself unable to hold back her tears during the last scene of the movie. Carol didn’t mean to smile, she was feeling rather weepy herself, but the feeling was all too familiar as she watched Therese reflect upon everything. “They love each other so much,” she sighed.

“Did you ever see the original _Love Affair_? Or perhaps you were too young.” Carol asked as she passed Therese a clean handkerchief from her pocket, trying her best to distract her from the tears.

“Too young,” Therese replied, wiping her eyes. “Did you?”

“I did, all the way back in 1939,” she smiled, “but that does make me feel terribly old. It’s been… eighteen years?”

“How did you like this?” 

“I could have done without some of the singing, but you know, it’s the same story, same director, but now in CinemaScope.”

As the lights came on, Therese took a beret in her hand and passed the other one to Carol, not knowing which one she actually held. Therese watched Carol smooth out her hair and placed the green one she had worn to the theater on her head. They had gotten them mixed up, but it was’t important. Therese liked how the green looked against her hair, and Carol also didn’t seem to mind what she put on her head because it was far too chilly out to care. 

Therese looked down at her plaid one in her hand and flipped it over. As she picked up the edge of the hat, she noticed strands of golden hair against the black felt. She looked back up at Carol, still sitting next to her, and pulled the green one off her head. “Here, you wear this one instead.”

“Why?”

“I like how you look in it better,” she answered as she put the green one on. Therese glanced back over at Carol sitting beside her, the room practically empty, and slouched down into her seat. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“Just a gander.”

“Really.”

“Well, it’s Wednesday, so I know Dannie is working the late shift again tonight. Louise has class until nine. Phil is not your preferred drinking buddy - he’s mine, you know, darling - and you like being alone in crowds, but not at bars. It’s cold out, and you’d want somewhere nice and warm. This theater is closest to the apartment, and I know that you didn’t see this during the summer, even though you wanted to, so, figured you would be here.”

Embarrassed how Carol could piecemeal her thought processes together so well, Therese laughed to herself. There was no mistaking that Carol loved her because she was always paying attention to every little detail. No other patrons were in the room and the lobby boys had already cleaned between the seats as they chatted, leaving the theater empty except for the two of them. Therese leaned in and pressed a kiss to Carol’s cheek. “Let’s go home,” she hurriedly said as she rose from her seat, “Rindy will be home soon.” Carol followed, pulling shut her coat. She knew she must look terribly silly in a three-thousand dollar fur and a little plaid beret on her head, but she didn’t care. It was Therese’s beret and it made her smile.

They walked in silence back toward the apartment, close to one another, but not touching, not until they were about three blocks away when Carol suddenly linked her arm with Therese’s. 

“Would you believe… “ she began, “that particular movie, or rather the original one, is the beginning of how I got that black fountain pen for my nineteenth birthday?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dW0LCcCKsBQ) for _An Affair to Remember_ (1957) dir. Leo McCarey


	5. Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Sunday, July 9th, 1939  
9:45 a.m.

“Help,” whined Harrie as she peeked across the bed. “Dutch river, six letters.”

Carol looked up from the morning paper at Harrie who rested against a pile of pillows placed at the foot of the bed, her knees drawn up to lean her folded section of newspaper on. The strap of her camisole fell down her shoulder to reveal the swell of her breast, distracting Carol from thinking about any kind of coherent answer to Harrie’s crossword clue.

“Amstel?” she offered before picking up her cup of coffee on the nightstand.

Harrie penciled it in, then shook her head and quickly erased it. “Not it.” Skipping ahead to one of the horizontal clues, she filled in that answer which she knew to be correct, but it seemed to make no sense in regards to the Dutch river question. “Is there a river with a J in it?”

Carol stopped reading, her eyes drifting off as she sat back to think again. “IJssel.” 

“Er, could you please spell that because I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“I-J-S-S-E-L.”

Harrie wrote each letter carefully, the corner of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on getting each one in its place. She smiled when she realized it was correct and winked at Carol. “Thanks, gorgeous.” 

Carol tilted her head, giving Harrie a bemused look at her choice of words, then wriggled over to Harrie’s side of the bed to take the crossword and pencil from her hands and toss the items onto the floor by the bed.

* * *

That was the routine: wake up, get the paper, make coffee and toast, return to bed with breakfast and the paper, do the crossword, read the news, and… lounge around, as Carol liked to call it. Quiet summer mornings enjoying one another’s company; lounging around with no pressure to be anywhere, do anything, or see anyone if they didn’t want to. 

Even though Carol missed her father, she was too exhausted to spend almost four days cooped up on a train in the middle of summer going from New York to Chicago, followed by another train from Chicago to Seattle, then have to do it all over again a month or so later. He was planning to come out at the end of summer anyhow once her grandparents returned from Cape Cod and her sister Elaine and her husband came up from Virginia. Her father still owned her childhood home in New Jersey, consummately reluctant to give it up when her mother passed away six years earlier. Now, he was starting to warm to the idea of selling the house since Elaine clearly didn’t need it and Carol was still in college, even though she always ended up at her grandparents’ during breaks and vacations.

Between the house in Greenwich, the cottage on the Cape and the cabin up in Maine, Carol had the impression her grandparents were hardly ever home in the first place. They were always there for Christmas though and a week here or there at the end of the summer. Carol liked when they were around in the summertime best; she and her grandmother would pick fruit from the bushes outside and make tremendous batches of preserves. Even when they were there, it was only for a couple weeks, and usually their stopover coincided with making jam or some event at the country club.

Carol had joined them on the Cape for a few weeks as soon as the term finished, then decided to return to Connecticut at the beginning of July. The beach was too distracting for her, she insisted, especially with a list of summer reading and Italian to practice after not taking it for a couple years. She asked if it would be alright for her to go back and study while she looked after the house… and would it be alright if she asked a friend from school to come stay with her.

“Why certainly, you should have a friend with whom you can practice!” her grandmother smiled.

Yes, practice, Carol told herself, which happened to be exactly what she and Harrie had been doing since she had arrived from Boston on Thursday afternoon. 

Carol wired her as soon as she returned, impatiently waiting a day for a response as she cleaned her room, changed sheets, tidied up where necessary. Of course Harrie wanted to come visit for a few weeks; she had no other plans for the summer. Her father and brother were over in England, visiting family and trying to convince her grandmother to come back to the United States with them when they returned in mid-September. Harrie found herself alone during the summer, stuck in the townhouse on Beacon Hill with nothing much to do aside from reading books, going to the movies, attending baseball games, and mixing chemicals in the well-ventilated basement.

Without any direction upon arrival, Harrie had brought her bag, vanity case, and cricket bat up to Carol’s room, and merely left everything on the floor by the foot of the bed, then scurried back downstairs so they could go out for dinner. Carol had a corner room that let in the most breeze and an electric ceiling fan that nicely circulated the air. Carol never pointed out a guest room and Harrie never inquired about one, not even later on when they went upstairs for bed and they remained in Carol’s room, listening to the radio softly and staying up late chatting, catching up on the past few weeks, and making plans for all the things they wanted to do. The World’s Fair? Theater? Art museums? Coney Island? The movies? Overnights in the city? Baseball games? That one was Harrie’s idea. Carol promised they would get out a calendar in the morning and plan the weeks ahead. Between the envelope of bills Carol’s grandfather gave her before she left and the fifty Harrie had pilfered from her savings, they figured they had plenty to last the summer and do all the things they wanted to do.

When Carol picked up the bedside clock, showing Harrie it was nearly two in the morning, she yawned and scratched the back of her neck. “You sleepy?” Carol asked before yawning moments after having watched Harrie do the same. “Exhausted.”

Carol stood up, not making it any further than the edge of the bed. “Then I better - “ 

“No, no, stay,” Harrie soothingly urged her, “you don’t have to sleep in another room.” She repeatedly tugged on Carol’s arm getting her to sit back down on the bed. “Unless you do?”

“I don’t.” Carol replied with a nervous laugh. “Honestly, I was just saying I better go to get changed and come right back.” 

Moments later, alone in the bathroom, Carol had a moment as she got ready for bed. She actually had been getting up to go sleep in one of the other guest rooms, even though those rooms didn’t have ceiling fans or corner windows to let in as much of a breeze. Not that she didn’t want to sleep next to Harrie; she did, she just didn’t know if they would be sleeping or, rather, “sleeping.” 

When Harrie arrived earlier, they hugged and that was it. They hadn’t kissed since that day at school, let alone discuss it. If she hadn’t had that study group to rush off to, she wasn’t sure what else would have happened between them, but she definitely knew what she wanted to happen even if she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Perhaps they simply didn’t have to talk about it. 

“Why are you nervous, you dummy? _You_ kissed her.” Carol spoke aloud as she looked in the mirror. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, clinging to the edge of the sink. 

Harrie knew what to do though, Carol was certain of that, so maybe they really didn’t have to talk about it. The way she confidently flipped her then pressed her against the door, or how she playfully kissed with her tongue, or tantalizingly ran her fingers over her curves. Maybe just the thought that Harrie seemingly had more experience with all of this marginally intimidated Carol. She looked down at the clothing she brought into the bathroom for her to change into, a simple, peach-colored, no-frills silk slip. It was unmistakably comfortable and old, but was also only a tiny bit snug pulling across her breasts and hips, and nicely accentuated what she wanted Harrie to notice. Would Harrie like it on her? Would she notice? Would she even care? She looked back at her reflection in the mirror, smiling to herself as she realized she had picked out something to wear that was specifically for Harrie to see her in. Carol couldn’t recall another time where she had picked out something to wear for the benefit of someone else, specifically what _she_ wanted someone to see her in.

Upon returning to the bedroom, Carol knocked on the door before entering, finding Harrie already in bed with the lamp on and waiting for her as she skimmed Carol’s book she had found on the nightstand. Carol opened the closet door to toss her dirty clothes into the hamper, sighing at the fact that she must do laundry the next day. She turned back to look at the bed with Harrie now watching her, her head propped against her hand, and asked if she had anything to be washed. Harrie ambiguously gestured to her bag at the foot of the bed and said she would sort it in the morning.

It was so hot neither of them wanted a blanket or a sheet, instead kicking it to the foot of the bed in case they needed it if or when the cool outside air finally came in. The two were still, facing one another in the darkness, unable to see, listening to each other’s breathing and the sound of the crickets and other creatures outside. “May I kiss you goodnight?” Carol blurted out before either of them ultimately fell asleep. Not that she could do so easily knowing that Harrie was right there beside her, breathing so close, her pillow only inches away.

“You didn’t ask the first time you kissed me.” 

“Perhaps I should have.”

“No,” Harrie drowsily said, moving closer, “it was perfect as it was.”

“We haven’t talked about… it.” Carol quietly remarked. “You and me. School… kissing… ”

“Must we?”

“I thought maybe you’d want to.”

“I already know how I feel, Carol.” Harrie extended an arm to wrap around her waist, emphasizing how much she liked being close to her like this.

“You do?”

Harrie roamed her hand over Carol’s hip and backside, inadvertently pulling up some of the silk fabric a few inches. “I know I'm in love with an intelligent, gorgeous art enthusiast who loves movies and wears these really sexy getups to bed,” she admitted in a low voice as she toyed with the lace trim of the slip that fell around Carol’s thighs.

Carol wished for a moment that Harrie could see the smile on her face. She slipped her own arm to Harrie’s waist, sliding her fingers beneath her camisole and over the skin of her lower back. “And I’m in love with a most clever chemist whose smile makes me weak in the knees and who apparently travels with a cricket bat.” She let her nails rake over the skin, making Harrie twitch in her arms. “Which you'll have to explain because - “

Harrie shifted forward and pressed her lips to Carol, sweetly embracing her before she could comfortably burrow herself into her arms. “Sleep. Let’s sleep right now.”

* * *

Friday, July 7th, 1939  
7:45 a.m.

Carol awoke rolled onto her stomach with her hands tucked under the pillow, a pleasant weight over her middle that instantly made her smile. She looked to her left, observing Harrie, soundly sleeping, arm draped over her waist, her lips resting against Carol’s shoulder. Her hair was so messy, the strands sticking on end, tickling her bare shoulder, it was almost too distracting. It was still somewhat early and Harrie was so comfortable, aside from the wayward hairs that kept brushing against her. It had gotten cooler overnight, especially with the fan running and windows open. Carol attentively twisted around so she could reach to the bottom of the bed to pull a blanket over them. Harrie stirred, irritable at the loss of her pillow and warmth as Carol moved. There was a low grunt and a jerk on Carol’s slip. “Go back to sleep.”

Carol didn’t like to wake her up like that, all startled and jolted from a sound sleep. “I have to go get the paper, bring in the milk, and make some breakfast.” Carol whispered. “Are you hungry?” Harrie’s stomach rumbled without her having to verbalize a coherent response so early. “So, yes.” Carol placed a kiss on Harrie’s forehead and got up to head down to the kitchen.

When she came back upstairs thirty minutes later with the paper and a tray of coffee and toast, Harrie was again fast asleep in the middle of the bed. Carol smiled and placed the tray on the desk, waiting as she watched Harrie sleep, nuzzling her face against Carol’s pillow while she slept. Beside her own pillow, close to the edge of the bed where Carol had been sleeping, she observed a small rectangular object, wrapped in muted gold paper with red ribbons, centered on her pillow.

“Harriet?” Carol softly called out as she nudged her shoulder. “Harriet, I brought us breakfast.”

Harrie woke with a start and raising her hand to rub against her eye. “I’m up, I’m up,” she muttered as she began to turn over. “So hungry.” Carol put the tray down on the bed once Harrie settled and immediately went to pour herself a cup of coffee. 

Carol picked up the gift wrapped item and held it out. “What’s this?”

“Happy belated birthday.” Harrie grinned, putting down her coffee cup.

“You didn’t have to.” Carol sighed as she sat down beside her. Harrie gently pressed the edge of the box toward her to open, not saying a word or give the semi-formal and highly-expected “but I wanted to” reply to her. Carol untied the red ribbons and turned around to weave it between the swirls of the iron-framed bed. “Beautiful wrapping,” she commented.

“There was only last year’s Christmas paper at home. I hope that’s alright.”

“Yes, it’s perfect.” Carol carefully pulled off the gold paper, placing it on the floor by the bed, and held a small black leather box in her hands. When she opened the clamshell case, inside was a black fountain pen with gold nib and accents pillowed against ivory satin. “Oh, Harriet, it’s lovely.” Carol leaned in and reached out to Harrie’s face with her left hand, pulling her close enough to kiss the dimple on her cheek. When Carol put her hand down, she pulled the pen from the case and began to examine it thoroughly.

Harrie couldn’t help but smile, her face reddening from the compliments and the kiss on the cheek. “I noticed your blue pen had a crack in it.” 

“Oh, that. It’s way past its prime. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harrie beamed. She raised her knees and rested her elbows against them. “Now you can start writing a Great American Novel.”

Carol only laughed. “I’m definitely no writer,” she scoffed as she looked back down at the pen in her hands and then back up at Harrie. “You seem to have great aspirations for me and this pen though.”

“Well, it might just be a simple pen, but with this, you’ll write all your exams, probably a thesis or two, signatures, letters, whatever correspondence... All the most important things in your life over the next however-many-years of its lifespan, and it’ll be with that pen.” 

“I never thought about it like that.”

While Harrie added cream and sugar to each cup of coffee, Carol buttered a slice of toast then spread a thin coat of strawberry jam on top. “What you want to do after college?” Carol didn’t answer, shyly averting her eyes from Harrie to look back at the pen now sitting in her lap. “Have you ever thought about teaching?” 

Carol leaned back against the bedframe and thought for a moment, thinking about what the coming years would bring. The future was seemingly blank aside from the miscellaneous obligations imposed upon her, like that debutante ball. Carol knew what participating in something like that had meant, what the inevitable was. She was so young, so many options to explore, places to go, and things she wanted to possibly do. Would it be possible to alter what was supposed to be her future? “After college? No idea. I’ve never thought about teaching though.” 

“You have such an appreciation for beauty, seeing it in the most unlikely of objects or places. You should share that with others.” Harrie noted. “Plus you were so patient with me on that French test. I mean, I actually get the subjunctive now! You’re good at explaining without being condescending or assuming too much or too little.” 

Carol held out the first triangle of toast just as Harrie held both coffee cups in her hands. “For you.” Harrie opened her mouth and made a sound, indicating to Carol that she should place the slice of toast directly between her teeth. Slumping her shoulders, Carol smiled at her, taking her cup of coffee from Harrie’s hand, yet followed her instructions to put the toast where she had been instructed.

“Thank you.” Harrie muttered with her mouth now full of toast. Before she could fully bite down, she reached her now free hand up to grab the end as she began to chew away. She still clung to the cup of coffee, waiting for it to cool before drinking.

“So ladylike.” Carol mocked as she took a sip of coffee. She placed the cup on the nightstand when finished, then worked on buttering her own slice of toast. 

“Is it ladylike you want?” she inquired with a laugh.

There was a certain playfulness to Harrie that Carol deeply admired. She could make the mundane a delight, she could be silly and serious all in one moment; that was what Carol loved about her. Even with disheveled hair, just woken up, smelling of strong coffee, Carol wanted her most. She could wait until the evening, when the day was done and they were exhausted from whatever they had planned to do. The night was also too filled with the heat from the daytime, making the room too warm like it had been the night before, the lightbulbs radiating too much additional warmth because, of course, Carol wanted to see every inch of her. 

Carol didn’t give her a straightforward answer, only arched an eyebrow, then shrugged her left shoulder and smiled. She took a single bite of her toast, chewed, and swallowed it down with another sip of coffee, then took the tray and moved it down to the floor. Harrie watched with curiosity as her buttered toast disappeared from sight and Carol moved around on the bed. She pushed herself up on her knees and raised the hem of her slip high enough to straddle Harrie’s lap. “No, I just want you,” she whispered against Harrie’s shoulder as she peppered the exposed flesh around her collarbone and neck with unhurried kisses to each freckle she found. Her hips cautiously began to move, not entirely sure what they were seeking. There was a vaguely familiar throbbing between her legs, that feeling she knew when she was alone in bed at night and her mind wandered, along with her hand, beneath her bedclothes, her fingers making tight circles again and again around the same spot. She reached for the edge of Harrie’s camisole, making her raise her arms as she pulled it over her head, and then tossed it to the floor. 

Carol stared, hesitating a moment as she took in everything, then reached with both hands, cupping Harrie’s breasts and running her thumbs over the sides and the nipples. She had a good idea of what Harrie looked like, not that what she wore to sleep the night before honestly hid a damn thing. She also had a good idea of how they felt like since Harrie pressed herself tightly to Carol’s side and she could feel the softness beneath the thinnest layer of silk next to her own skin. Still, it wasn’t the same as actually observing without any obstruction, or caressing without casually brushing against them. She angled her head down and removed her hand from Harrie’s right breast, taking the nipple in her mouth and sucking it. Harrie moaned, then let out a sharp noise as Carol bit a little too hard on the nipple. “Sorry,” she breathed.

Yes, Carol definitely loved breasts. 

“May I?” Carol pulled at the waist of Harrie’s silk pants. She nodded, moving her arms so Carol had enough access to unbutton them at the side and pull them down her legs as she flattened her back against the bed, watching Carol brush them onto the floor. When she looked back, Harrie’s head was flanked by pillows, arms at her sides, legs spread apart, and Carol stopped breathing. 

It was one thing for her to see her own nudity in the mirror almost every day as she dressed and undressed, or revere the idealized, fleshy female nudes of her art books, but for Carol to witness the beauty of the nude female form before her on the bed, reclined and uncovered for her eyes only, she was speechless. Unlike many of the women in the paintings and sculptures, there were no hands covering what she wanted to see and touch, no reason to mask modesty by any means. Running one hand over Harrie’s breasts and then teasingly all the way down her middle to the patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs, Carol suddenly stopped her movements and finally began to breathe again. Her skin and hair were so soft; nothing but perfect smoothness and sensual warmth against her hands and mouth. 

“I’m… “ She wasn’t sure what to say, if anything was really must be said at all.

Harrie looked up, propping herself against the pillows then she placed her hands astride Carol’s still covered hips, slowly gliding the fabric upward. “You don’t have to explain.” Harrie countered as though she could perfectly tell what was crossing Carol’s mind at that moment. “May I?” she asked, placing an elongated emphasis on the pronoun in her simple question. 

Carol swallowed, determined not to sound too nervous. “Yes.”

Harrie yanked the slip over Carol’s head, tousling her blonde hair in the process, and tossed it beside her own discarded clothing on the floor. As soon she was undressed, Harrie scanned her figure, up and down, evaluating where best to start. She pressed a finger to her sternum to encourage Carol to fall back against the pillows; that same finger that trailed all the way down past her navel into snug wetness.

That was one way she could get Carol to call her by her nickname, Harrie realized with a smirk.

* * *

Sunday, July 9th, 1939  
10:45 p.m.

New York was in the midst of a heat wave, incredibly humid and above ninety every day for the past three days. It would get marginally cooler around five in the morning, but as soon as the sun appeared it was nothing but scorching heat all day until around eight. Friday and Saturday afternoon were spent by the pool: reading while it was not too hot, floating on rubber rafts when it got hotter, until finally submerging into the water because the heat was simply too much to bear. Even then the water would start to get too warm and feel less refreshing, at which point Carol and Harrie would go inside for lemonade and then upstairs to lie down on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor and simply, lounge around until dinner. 

That first Sunday though, they did their normal morning routine, then took a train into the city for the doubleheader that afternoon. It took some coaxing on Harrie’s part, insisting there would be ample shade and be a perfectly memorable afternoon outing, even if it was at a ballpark. To top it all off, and as consolation for five hours of baseball, she then promised they could go to the Astor for the road show viewing of _Goodbye, Mr. Chips_ and enjoy the air-conditioned auditorium for at least a couple hours and sip cold beverages in their seats. By the time the movie finished, it had cooled off a bit, but they had to rush to make the train home, completely undoing any of the hours spent in the air conditioning. The train was sweltering hot, even for the nighttime, and the pair of them were just eager to be back home. 

“I think you have sunburn.” Carol pointed out once they found their seats on the train. Hardly anyone was on board with it being so late and the baseball game already out hours earlier.

“Yeah, so worth it to be there for the last doubleheader of a five-game series sweep.” Harrie gloated as she brandished her neck and held out her arms to show off now warm red skin. “And at Yankee Stadium for that matter.”

“Told you you should have borrowed one of my hats,” groaned Carol as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Of course I’d fall for a Red Sox fan.”

“I heard that.” Harrie scowled. “You don’t even follow baseball.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have allegiances,” she retorted with a wink. “It’s one thing to be there, it’s another to listen to it on the radio. It’s like watching - “

“ - paint dry?”

“- paint dry, yes. Or listening to paint dry.” Carol rested against the cool glass of the window, ready for the train to depart from the station so they could get home, shower, and go to bed. “Remind me to pick up some aloe vera for you tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine.”

Carol lifted herself up from her seat to look around to see if anyone was sitting near them, then sat back in her seat. “I’m not going to be cleaning your flaky skin from the sheets for the next week,” she said in a low voice, then pressed her forehead against the glass again to cool down.

“I suppose I can sleep elsewhere… “

Carol rapidly turned to face her. “You wouldn’t dare.” Harrie devilishly smiled back at her. “Did you have a good time today?”

“Day’s not over… “ Harrie teased as she removed one of her heels and slid her stockinged foot up and down Carol’s calf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=edCDsaEjEf8) for _Goodbye, Mr. Chips_ (1939) dir. Sam Wood


	6. Andy Hardy Gets Spring Fever

Monday, July 24th, 1939  
11:45 a.m.

A couple weeks passed at the house filled with peaceful mornings, sweltering afternoons, and balmy evenings. The constant heat waves were getting tiresome and escaping to the movie theater in town whenever the temperature teetered on eighty-five and up resulted in the two of them watching _The Hound of the Baskervilles_ three times. That Monday morning though, Harrie had had enough when she saw the thermometer was already at eighty before midday. Carol knew by that point it wasn’t really the heat that got to Harrie rather than the intense humidity on top of it that would reduce her entire head an uncomfortable, frizzy mess. In a huff, she hastily dressed to go out then asked Carol for the car keys. She gave Carol a kiss and said she’d be back by one, and most importantly, with a persistent order not to make lunch.

Carol finished getting dressed and tidying up the room. Harrie had left a pile of dirty clothes on the floor in a corner, not in the hamper as Carol had directed her at least twice. The basket was full when she looked in, so it was as good a time as any to do batch of laundry. Besides, Harrie could help her wring and hang everything on the clothesline when she got back. Picking up whatever clothes she could find around, Carol added everything to the basket, topping it off with some notecards, envelopes, stamps, and her new pen. She figured while waiting for the wash cycle to run its course, she could write to her grandparents, her father, and her sister. She felt guilty about not keeping up with her correspondence, but her mind had been so distracted. Not that it took her too many guesses to know why. As she filled the washer with water from the hose, Carol coyly smiled thinking about the two of them sleeping next to one another every night for over two weeks. It was truly a miracle that they had this time together without any supervision or hovering family members. It felt good not to have to sneak around or pretend they were always engaged in “wholesome” activities.

In some ways, she dreaded going to back to school even though she loved her classes and being in that kind of atmosphere. It wasn’t like she could tell anyone how happy she was or trade stories like the other girls did. That was always the worst: the incessant talk in the common rooms about the boy that so-and-so was going with. She remembered in the spring one girl talking about her boyfriend from Williams and how they finally went all the way, then disappointingly said even though she didn’t really like it, was a bit painful, and only took “a few minutes,” all in all the whole thing was just “okay.” 

Thinking back on it, Carol now wondered how could it just be “okay” to actually go all the way with a boy? She and Harrie could, in their own way she supposed, do most of the things a man and woman could do. They might have only been intimate for a couple of weeks, but the way she felt when they were together was indescribable, and positively nothing about being with her caused her any discomfort nor could even be close to described as a footnote of merely “okay.” And it definitely didn’t take only “a few minutes,” more like at least an hour if not longer entangled in the pleasant company of one another. Not that she had been watching the clock on the nightstand.

Maybe it was that girl and her fellow at Williams weren’t in love with each other and it was more to satisfy a curiosity rather than an actual expression of how they felt. Or perhaps it was because that was what their friends expected of them and they were doing it just because.

In only a couple months, she could see herself sitting next to all of them, wanting to scream that they had no idea what they were missing. Did they even know how much they could enjoy themselves? Did they not do the same things she and Harrie did? Maybe that was why it didn't take them as long. They were all required to take that Hygiene class their Freshman year, even if it wasn't exactly the most eye-opening instruction there was still a hint of something in their textbooks, or if not that, other literature around regarding the subject. Carol remembered that book with the sterile diagrams her older sister had given her before she started college, gifted with the preface of “wish I had this at your age, but really don’t need this anymore” as she was then expecting another child. Silently, she thanked her sister for the book as it was far more enlightening than anything else, even though its content was not necessarily for a college-bound girl of eighteen.

Unlike the girls at school though, Carol rationalized she didn't have to be preoccupied with worry about getting pregnant and she could be completely uninhibited when it came to sex. She and Harrie could be curled up together in bed late at night or early in the morning, beneath the tree by the secluded blueberry bushes, in the library while reading against the built-in bookcases, or wherever. There was no awkward pause to find a prophylactic, no lingering fear of it breaking or spilling; essentially no worries of anything befalling her other than a cramping of her arm or leg muscles. At least she could work on ameliorating her arm muscle with some tennis, she told herself.

“Hello? Anybody home?” 

Carol drifted back, hearing the somewhat familiar man’s voice off in the distance while simultaneously realizing that the washer now had too much water in it and needed some scooped out. Once she recognized the voice, she became observably flustered when she realized who it was. “Why now, why today of all days?” she muttered, reaching for the tap to shut off the water, remove the hose, and find a glass to draw the excess liquid into the rinse wash bucket to use later. She began to scoop out the water, but realized it would take far too long to do, especially with someone popping up at the house.

“Anyone here? Miss Ross?”

She gave up and after placing the glass on the counter, Carol darted to the entryway around the corner from the laundry room, her bare feet padding across the floors to the alcove where she and Harrie left their shoes. When she reached the foyer, it was exactly who she thought it would be: The young man with terrible penmanship from the debutante ball.

“Mr. Aird. How do you do?”

“How do you do?” He pleasantly smiled then looked down at Carol's feet, dirty from walking around the house and outside, and gave her a puzzled look. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“Forgive me, I was in the laundry room starting a wash.” Carol picked up Harrie's saddle shoes and put them on in haste, casually realizing that she must have taken her slip-on shoes when she rushed out of the house.

“No, forgive me for barging in here like this.”

“So, you let yourself in?” Carol squirmed in the shoes and felt uncomfortable with the tongues wedged around the sides of her feet and the middle lose from not tying them. She didn’t want to sound rude, but why would he march right into the house without waiting? “How'd you know I was here?”

“Oh, I ran into your grandparents on the Cape while at my family’s place. Your grandparents said it would be alright for me to drop in on you and your friend staying here.” He carefully watched as Carol struggled with the shoes, refusing to sit down to make them more comfortable on her feet. “I was passing through on my drive back to New Jersey. I saw your garage door wide open, so when I knocked and no one answered, I just figured you had to be here somewhere. Don't you have help here, Miss Ross?” 

She finally gave up and sat on a seat in the foyer to adjust the shoes and tie them properly. The last thing she wanted was to fall flat on her face because she tripped over her own shoelaces. “Typically, yes, but seeing as it’s only me and Miss Lovell, we get along fine. Gardener and garbage collection on Tuesdays, milkman every couple of days, pool checked every two weeks. It's very comfortable.”

“And Monday’s wash day?” He smiled. “Sounds like you got a good routine here. Very domestic. And you can call me Harge, by the way.”

Domestic? Carol tried not to show her disdain as she realized he was apparently pleased to see her minding a home of that caliber. Carol wasn't sure what to do. She’d never had a man come calling on her before. Not a boy, like a college boy who was a year or two older and home for the summer like her, but a man. An older, good-looking man in his mid-twenties at that. Her mind was spinning with a list of the things she should do when having a guest over, which she seemed to have conveniently forgotten all of a sudden. Since Harrie arrived, all that flew out the window. How relaxing it was not to have to worry about every detail of etiquette around her, that they didn't have to pretend and they could simply be themselves.

“I know it's not formal, and my grandmother would be very displeased with me, but it is summer and incredibly hot, plus it's only you and me right now… “ Carol was rambling on and she knew it. She didn’t know why she spoke like that, like she had no better sense about her. “Would you like to come into the kitchen for a drink? I think there’s some fresh lemonade in the icebox.”

“Sounds good.”

She could have given him a tour of the downstairs, shown off the dining room with its table for eighteen or the Steinway grand piano in the music room, but she didn’t. She made her way straight toward the kitchen without any detours to the stuffy rooms along the hall. Carol opened the icebox and pulled out a large glass bottle of purple liquid, placing it on the counter in front of a very confused Harge. 

“Is that lemonade?” he said pointing at the bottle.

Carol smiled, remembering having the same reaction the first time Harrie had made it the week before, standing in the kitchen and boiling blueberries, sugar, and lemon juice together to make a syrup to add to the lemonade Carol had made earlier. “It is.”

“If you say so.”

Carol poured two glasses then went to the old icebox to see if there was any ice left. None remained from the last delivery; nothing except a pan of water waiting to be emptied. “We're out of ice, but it's still cold so… bottoms up?”

Harge picked up the glass, still doubtful, and clinked his with Carol's. They each took a sip and put the glasses back on the counter.

“That’s really good,” said Harge, smacking his lips. “Blueberries?”

She nodded. “Miss Lovell is a Chemistry major, which very nicely carries over into the kitchen at times because she's a whiz at mixing things up.”

“So… “ Harge started to speak and then stopped all together. Carol could easily tell that he was having a difficult time trying to think of something to talk about. “What have you ladies been up to for the past couple of weeks?”

“Oh, the usual trouble. Swimming, reading, going to the movies. That sort of thing.” 

And necking, and kissing, and groping, and going down on each other at any and every possible opportunity, she thought to herself.

“As long as you’re having a good time.” Carol couldn’t help but snicker; as long as she wasn’t blushing she could get through this. She raised an eyebrow as she took another sip and Harge started to babble on again. “I sure do miss those summer vacations when I was in college.”

Carol didn’t want to hear about his college exploits, or what girls he had been chasing around the beaches up and down the Atlantic Seaboard. She cleared her throat and gestured back toward the entry way. “Miss Lovell ought to be back presently and we do have a pressing engagement this afternoon. Not to mention I’m already really behind with chores around here this morning.”

“If I could be of any help?”

“No, no. Laundry. Things like that really.”

“No problem, it was me who dropped by unannounced. I gotta hit the road anyhow. My parents are expecting me for lunch.” Harge picked up his hat and straightened his tie. “Please give my compliments to Miss Lovell for the lemonade.”

“I will.”

“May I write to you still, Miss Ross?”

“Yes,” Carol replied without hesitation. “And please, call me Carol.” There was no harm in him writing to her, or calling her by her given name. She didn’t have to answer the letters right away, especially when it took a week to practically decipher his penmanship. It wouldn’t be leading him on, would it? One-page, one-sided letters about school, work, or the next big vacation plans. Letters containing only pleasantries and nothing of actual substance. They didn’t mean anything.

“Nice to have seen you again, Carol.” Harge tipped his hat and walked out the door.

* * *

As soon as Harge drove away, Carol wandered into the drawing room, taking her grandfather’s seat by the window that overlooked the driveway and front lawn. She sat in the oversized chair waiting for Harrie to come back, fidgeting with her hands and bouncing her crossed leg up and down. Thoughts of the endless obligations and the anxieties of fulfilling all of those expectations flooded through her brain. How would it be back on campus with meddlesome Heads of Houses, roommates, curfews, twin beds, and classes? Plus Harrie had grad school applications and a thesis project on top of everything. They'd have to talk about the fall at some point, that is, if it all wasn't just for the summer. She didn't think Harrie believed their situation temporary, but she also had to remind herself of the fact that Harrie would graduate in June. And then the following year, Carol would have to start seriously thinking about what she wanted to do after graduation. 

She got up from her seat and went looking for the box of cigarettes in the room that her grandfather liked to keep filled. Carol removed the lid and pulled out two, placing the extra one behind her ear as she now went searching for a match or lighter. In the drawer of the table where the cigarette box was, Carol found an ashtray and book of matches, lighting the one that dangled from her lip. The room was too warm, the sunlight directly hit the space and without any ventilation was an unbearable spot. Carol moved into the foyer, more or less windowless and refreshing, and walked up a few steps to sit on the cool stairs.

It felt better having something to preoccupy her hands as she waited. Normally she went for a book or magazine, but Harge’s visit unnerved her. Of course there was still the laundry to do, but she was in no mood to do that now without Harrie’s help. There had been such a lapse in time from the ball until that day that Carol had hoped the young men from the event had forgotten all about her. Why now? Why that particular fellow? Why now when she was just starting to figure things out?

She started to think about what Harrie had mentioned a few weeks earlier, about teaching or sharing her love of art with others. Perhaps she could teach art, or work at a museum. That would be rewarding, far better than staying home with her father or grandparents and simply waiting for someone like Harge to waltz through the front door expecting his slippers and dinner. Hadn’t Harge just waltzed into her day like that?

Before her cigarette could fizzle out, Carol reached for the one behind her ear and lit the end. As the cigarette caught the nearly extinguished light, she stopped. Wait, wasn’t that what she was doing at that very second? Sitting by the front door, expecting Harrie to return, presumably with lunch? No, this was different. She was waiting there because she wanted to, because Harrie was bringing something back, and she didn’t have to do anything herself.

Carol heard a car pull into the driveway and walked to the window to make sure it was Harrie and not Harge approaching. Harrie drove the car up to the front of the house then got out to open the back door and pull out some tongs. From the trunk, she pulled out a block of ice that she grasped with the tongs and scampered for the entrance. Carol immediately reached for the doorknob and opened it so Harrie could rush in and make her way to the kitchen.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Harrie said quickly as she hurried past her. “There’s more stuff in the car,” she managed to get out before her voice faded away. Carol left the front door open and walked down to the car to see what else Harrie had brought back. She first checked the trunk, seeing only a few towels laid down across the back to catch any melted water and tossed those over her shoulder before shutting the door. On the floor beneath the backseat were soda pop and beer bottles in neat cartons, along with a box of what smelled like fried seafood.

Carol lifted the drinks into her arms, then piled the lighter box of food on top of the drinks, and made her way into the house, managing to shut the front door with a firm kick of the foot. Harrie was already in the kitchen, chipping away at the block of ice now snuggly in the old non-electric icebox and placing the chips into glasses. Carol placed everything on the counter, throwing the towels over the edge of a chair, and immediately looked inside the box to see what Harrie had brought back.

“I figured since tomorrow’s trash day, some stinky seafood wouldn’t be sitting around too long.” Harrie watched Carol who dipped her hand into the box to pull out a fried clam and popped it into her mouth. “Here, put the bottles in the icebox, would you?”

Carol placed the carton of pop in the icebox and paused when she saw the beer bottles. “Did you drive over to New York?” She tilted her head back and smiled at Harrie.

“Sure did.” Harrie answered. “I thought it might be nice to have some beers later when we unwind by the pool.” She shut the door of the old icebox and turned back to Carol, noticing that something was off despite her smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just… ”

“Warm?”

“Yeah, warm.”

Harrie took one of the glasses with the ice chips and filled it with tap water. She held it out to Carol who drank half the glass immediately. “Better?” Carol nodded. 

She finished the rest of her glass of water, noticing that most of the ice chips already melted, and placed it next to the unopened food. She wanted to tell Harrie that someone - that Harge - had stopped by, but she couldn’t. What they had was so new and made her so happy, she didn’t want to spoil it by talking about him. And so what? He’d write another terrible letter and that would be that.

“Hey, sorry I was such a grump earlier. I don’t do well in the heat.” Harrie put an arm around Carol’s waist and kissed her cheek as an apology.

“It’s fine, Harriet. Let’s eat, okay?” Harrie started to let go of her, but Carol didn’t let her move. She sighed and held onto her, then kissed her back before she released her.

* * *

Much like it was back at the movie theater at college, the balcony seats were empty on that Monday afternoon. All the prep school children were away at their summer camps and the local high schoolers were all at their summer jobs, so wouldn’t be at the movies until nighttime. It wasn’t too crowded in the middle of the day, especially for an Andy Hardy picture that would have normally brought everyone under the age of twenty out, leaving Carol and Harrie with plenty of space for themselves.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they tell us to vacate?” Carol looked over her shoulder, not seeing anyone or hearing anyone approaching. “Because I’ll gladly pay another thirty cents for us to sit here in the air conditioning.”

“Do you honestly think you could stand another hour or more of Andy Hardy?“ Carol asked. “When is that boy ever going to learn?”

“One, probably not, and two, never because we’ll be having this same conversation when the next one comes out.” Harrie answered and slouched in her seat, stretching out her legs as far into the aisle as they could go. “He probably wanted to get married so he could sleep with his teacher, the immature boy.”

Carol slouched down in her seat as well, trying to match Harrie’s stance. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

“You know, as long as I can remember, when people asked me if I wanted to get married, I would automatically reply with ‘no.’ Flat out ‘no,’ without the slightest hesitation. Now that I’m older, and going to graduate, going on to do whatever with my life, and… “ Harrie trailed off, catching her breath and waiting for the next words to come out. “Recently, I keep wondering if I’ve been saying no all along because I really don’t want to get married, or if it’s the thought of marrying a man that makes me say no. I’m not attracted to men, so why would I want to sleep with one, or even be married to one? It’s like Judge Hardy said, ‘The earlier you get married, the sooner you grow up.’ I never want to feel trapped or lose myself in all those responsibilities. I think if I ever married a man, I'd feel that way. God, I can’t believe I’ve been quoting Judge Hardy.” Harrie shook her head in mocking disbelief. “Carol, this heat, it’s affecting me terribly. Send help.”

Carol chuckled; she loved when she acted silly. “You and me both.” 

Harrie leaned her head back, eyes closed, enjoying the cool air. “I mean, he was basically telling his son to play the field. Remember that part when the Judge is saying he’s always of the thought the man should be older? How asinine. Basically screw every gal you can and settle down with one of them when you’re done with all that.”

Carol immediately thought of Harge, and how he was at least six years older than her. What did he see in a girl who just finished her first year of college? What had he been doing all these years since he graduated? How many other girls had he been seeing? Did they ever… Carol didn’t want to think about it. It would be one thing if he were closer to her own age, but he’d been out of school for over four years. 

What about Harrie though? She was a couple years older, but it didn’t feel as awkward as the age difference with Harge. Harrie was more her peer, they had lots of things in common, they were more on equal footing. “You’re older than me.” Carol quietly noted.

Harrie sat up straight in her seat, smoothing back her hair with her left hand, and stared directly at Carol. “This is different.”

“How so?”

“For starters, you aren’t - you weren’t - some untouched prize for the winning, having to hang out the bed sheets for all to see my victorious prowess.”

“Victorious? Or Victorian?” Carol smirked. “No one does that anymore.”

“And obviously I’m not looking to maximize on your childbearing years,” Harrie joked. “But I’ll be dammed if the sway of your hips doesn’t do something to me.”

Carol swatted her arm.

“But I can easily see myself, you know, married-like or in a similar arrangement with a woman though. I think I like the thought of it, you know? Being with a person like that who I come home to at the end of the day - “

“ - carrying a block of much-needed ice - “

“Bringing home dinner - “

“ - fried seafood is always good - “

“Going out to the movies - “

“ - much as we are now - “

“Curling up listening to the radio - “

“ - or dancing in the drawing room - “

“Making love until we’re too - “

“ - we can honest-to-God go home right now and - “

Harrie looked around to see if anyone else had come upstairs, and then turned back to Carol, observing the faintest flush along her neck. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s get goin’.” Carol also turned, confirming there was no one else, and leaned forward to give Harrie a kiss before gathering her hat and purse. Once they arrived at the top of the stairs, Harrie reached over and re-buttoned the top three fastenings of Carol’s shirt so that the camisole beneath didn’t show. “Your hands are full,” she grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PqmzrxjHGPs) for _Andy Hardy Gets Spring Fever_ (1939) dir. W.S. Van Dyke


	7. The Wizard of Oz

Saturday, August 19th, 1939  
2:50 p.m.

“You spent the whole movie distracted by Dorothy tossing away that piece of cruller before she sang ‘Over the Rainbow’?”

“Toto might’ve been hungry. Sure made me hungry.”

“You don’t care that you actually got to see Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland perform? Live.”

“Nope.”

Carol turned to look at the clock on the wall. “You’ve spent almost six hours thinking about a crumb of doughnut?”

“Maybe.”

“Honestly, Harrie.”

“It’s not like they sold them in the lobby, and we got up so early this morning to make it into the city.” Harrie dunked half her doughnut into her coffee, letting it sit for a moment before it got too soggy and fell in. Harrie had been talking about doughnuts since they finished the day’s first screening of _The Wizard of Oz_. She talked about doughnuts on the train to the World’s Fair and again as they wandered the fairgrounds. Once they had seen what visited the Masterpieces of Art building, Carol couldn’t take it anymore and dragged Harrie to the Amusement Area where, after looking at a map, she knew she could quench her desire for doughnuts.

“You should have told me you knew this was here before we started walking around. I would have saved us hours of complaining.”

“You have the strangest cravings and at the oddest hours,” Carol said, taking a bite of of the other half of doughnut. “I should get some more coffee,” she said as she started looking for the waitress.

Harrie pushed her mug forward. “Have mine.”

Carol glanced into the mug and saw several doughnut crumbs floating around the edges. “There's bits of doughnut in this.”

“So? Makes it taste better.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.” Harrie took a small sip of coffee, finished her doughnut then wiped her hands on a paper napkin she pulled from the dispenser. “Consider this,” she offered, then lowered her voice, “you can put those beautiful lips where mine were just now.”

Carol raised an eyebrow and reached for the coffee, now with a more pronounced lipstick mark around the rim. “You’re such a sentimentalist.”

“I can’t help it. I miss waking up next to you in the morning.” 

“Me too.” Carol sighed. She took a sip of the coffee, positioning her lips exactly where the lipstick smudge imprinted onto the edge. “Harriet, I’m not sure if I express this enough... I really like... being with you.”

Harrie tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at her. “Yeah?”

“I do. I like driving places with you or taking the train, making dinner together, tidying up, studying together, hanging out the clothes to dry - “

“What you like is having an all-around equal partner.”

“Is that it?”

“Uh huh. You like sharing in the experience, both parties on the same footing. How about with sex? Do you think that’s equal between us?”

“Very much so. We can do the exact same thing with one another, different means of getting there sometimes, nonetheless we're working with the same equipment,” she laughed. “And I don’t feel guilty or ashamed about what we do either.”

Taking a deep breath and looking straight into Carol's eyes, Harrie paused and then spoke in a low voice, “I absolutely adore being with you. This has been the nicest summer I've had in ages.” She hesitated before continuing, looking around the noisy restaurant to see if anyone could have overheard them or was watching them. “Say, I have an idea. What if you came up to Boston when I head back? My father and Sid are still gone, and it’d just be the two of us.”

“I’d love to, but… “

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about your family visiting.”

Carol’s sister, her husband, and her three boys, all under the age of eight, were coming up from Virginia for ten days now that Carol’s grandparents had returned from the Cape. On top of that, there was her father coming out from Seattle for the week. Needless to say, the subsequent days were bound to be full of luncheons, parties, long suppers, and other familial pursuits during this annual family get together. She knew they would be coming back to the World’s Fair together with all the children, which no doubt, would be an exhausting day. She had asked Harrie to stay, but she wanted to head back to get her things together for school as well as finish up her graduate school applications as quickly as possible. Harrie was simply being polite because she knew how much Carol was looking forward to spending time with her father.

Carol finished her doughnut and drank the rest of the coffee from the shared mug. “It’s certainly going to be an interesting couple of weeks. How is it I have three nephews and I’m not yet twenty?”

Harrie laughed and nudged her leg under the table. “Either your sister is really bad at family planning or the women in your family are just really fertile. I think all of you are incredibly fertile, so I best take more precautions with you. Honestly, it’s a miracle we’re not expecting yet.”

“Stop.” Carol said, hiding her face behind her hand as she rubbed the corner of her eye.

“Therefore, probably best I’m not around your sister.”

Harrie then paused and to watch Carol’s hands as she toyed with the handle of the coffee cup. During the silence between them, she genuinely asked Carol if she wanted children. Their conversations had grown much more candid and personal over the past month; Carol wasn’t put off by the question, she wasn’t put off by any of the questions that Harrie asked her. In fact, she liked them more than anything. They helped her think through things and develop her own opinions, even though she had a more difficult time coming up with her own questions to ask Harrie. The topic of children though, that wasn’t what she had expected to discuss after sharing coffee and doughnuts in a crowded restaurant at the World's Fair.

“I think I do. One? More than that? I don't know, I mean how… I don't know, I'm talking out of my hat - “

“It’s okay if you do, you know, want kids. Or want to talk about… that. At all. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Carol smiled at her and tilted her head to the right. Carol loved her tenderness, wishing she really knew how to talk as freely as Harrie. She knew how to answer Harrie’s questions, but she wasn’t as confident in asking them as she was. A glimmer of light caught on the amber necklace she wore, causing Carol’s eyes to shift downward to the v of her shirt then back up when she saw Harrie had noticed the direction of her gaze. “You’re very sweet and understanding, Harriet, you realize that?”

Harrie shrugged, masking her smile from the compliment Carol had given her, and fiddled with the empty coffee cup. She then lifted her head and looked back over her shoulder to see if the waitress was anywhere nearby with the coffee pot.

While Carol grew up lonely, Harrie grew up alone, unaccustomed to having family around. It hadn’t always been that way before her mother passed away, she explained while they were reading and doing the crossword in bed like they did every morning. After her mother died, Harrie stayed at school in Boston, and her older brother Sidney went to school back in England. She hardly saw her brother, let alone her father who was constantly away on business or visiting his mother in Yorkshire. From 1928, Harrie was very much on her own aside from a nurse who looked after her until she was fifteen. Boarding school became the nursemaid after that, but by that point, Harrie was already taking care of herself, traveling to and from school, making arrangements for this or that, and minding the house. Some summers, she sailed for England where she would regroup with the rest of the family for a couple precious months, but then return for school. She grew used to it, and even though she was often alone, Carol supposed that was why she was always so good-natured, able to make the most of any situation thrown at her, and Carol loved that.

There was a sudden warmth against Harrie’s fingers, and she looked down to see Carol brush her hand across hers to get her attention. “How about after? What if I came up to Boston and we traveled to school straight from there?”

“I would really like that,” replied Harrie with a firm nod.

* * *

If Masterpieces of Art was Carol’s choice when they first got to the fair, then the DuPont Wonder World of Chemistry exhibit was certainly Harrie’s. She practically beamed at the prospect of showing Carol science-related exhibits that were about her topics of interest. Harrie liked looking at art with Carol, who always pointed out something fascinating behind each painting, but finding an entire building celebrating the wonder of chemistry was completely inspiring and she was pleased to finally be able to share it with her.

“Are you telling me I will be wearing some kind of synthetic polymer on my legs within the next couple of years?”

“Seems so.”

Carol ran her fingers over the fabric, taking in the give and feel of the stockings in the display for the audience to touch. “Doesn’t that seem strange?”

“No, we use all kinds of composites, emulsions, and synthetics in everyday items.”

“Darling, explain science to me like I explain art to you.”

Harrie leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You show me buxom reclining female nudes. Those hardly need an explanation, Carol. Except for those with their mysterious lack of pubic hair.”

“Don’t be fresh.”

When she finished chuckling and making Carol profusely blush, Harrie thought of items she knew she had that would best exemplify her point. “Okay, so your grandfather’s domino set, a telephone, a radio… those are made of Bakelite - “

“That reminds me: Did you put the dominoes back that you used as bails?”

“No, just remind me to do that when we get home. Back to what chemicals do for you in everyday life,” Harrie said as she jabbed Carol’s arm and smiled. “Your pen, that’s celluloid… and movies, those are printed on celluloid too. Plus dolls, buttons, pins, little things like that. However it’s highly flammable, so don’t even think of - “

“Setting my pen ablaze?”

Harrie closed her eyes and shook her head with a snicker, “Yeah, never do that.”

Carol looked up at the woman with the unfortunate title of “MIss Chemistry” who was on display for the audience at the end of the exhibit. She was dressed from head to toe in products entirely made from chemicals, from the fabric of her dress to the jewelry around her neck and wrists. Most interestingly for all those standing around, male or female, was the sight of Miss Chemistry’s legs donning those stockings made of the nylon fabric everyone had been touching in the other exhibit room. “Is it safe for Miss Chemistry there to be wearing nothing but clothing made of chemical products?” asked Carol.

“I’d really like to think so.”

“That’s not terribly encouraging, scientist.” Turning her attention back to the exhibit brochure, Carol finished reading about the final display. “Should be you up there,” she quietly said without looking over to Harrie.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why?”

“You’re the real ‘Miss Chemistry’ with your chemistry skills and your sexy legs.”

“I wouldn’t want a bunch of strange men ogling me.”

“Yes, but for all of those men, I bet you there’d be at least one lovely girl discreetly ogling you who’d love to roll down your stockings at the end of the day.”

“Can that girl be you?”

Carol winked.

* * *

“I don’t think your grandmother was enthused that I turned the horseshoe pit into a makeshift cricket pitch and pulled up those garden stakes to make a wicket.” Harrie said as they walked up the sidewalk toward the driveway. They were home barely in time for dinner at six-thirty with the train running behind, and still had to wash up before they sat down to eat.

“No, she likes it! Gets my grandfather out of the house, plus he loves playing cricket with you.”

“He’s swell, such a good sport about things too.”

As they turned the corner to walk up the driveway, Carol’s stomach flipped when she saw the car parked by the entrance to the house. “Oh, no.”

“What’s the matter?” 

“Not again.”

* * *

While Carol walked Harge out, Harrie wandered back upstairs to the guest room and looked at her suitcase sitting in the corner of the room. It would be so easy to dart off and take a train home. She looked at the clock on the nightstand and noted it was too late to head back then, unless she wanted to spend the night in Hartford or New Haven, which she really didn’t want. She could leave in the morning, she supposed, walking over to her suitcase to pull out a timetable to see when she could head out. 

It would be easy to be jealous of Harge with his career, house, car, vacation plans, and probably a bank account to boast about to no end. Harrie had all of that and then some, aside from the career in real estate, nevertheless she would have some kind of career, far better one than Harge could ever have down the road, she knew. Harrie didn’t have to be jealous of his accomplishments or the material things he had, except she could be jealous of the fact that Harge could just show up and openly make his intentions clear. What could she do when it was all up to Carol?

Harrie could be equally upset at her for not mentioning that he had stopped by that sweltering afternoon she went out for ice, but in some way, she understood why Carol hadn't said anything. She wasn’t in the best of moods that day and maybe Carol was only trying to spare her feelings. Harrie was just as surprised as anything to hear that Harge loved the blueberry-flavored lemonade she made and had told Carol to be sure to pass along his compliments. Of course she cordially thanked him and said that Carol had mentioned how much he liked it, all the while Carol sat at the table fiddling with the napkin in her lap.

Harrie didn’t notice Carol come into the room until she took a seat at the opposite end of the bed. She had taken off her shoes and curled her legs underneath her as she got comfortable, crossing her arms and holding herself tightly before dropping her hands into her lap. Harrie could see she was nervous and upset.

“Harge seems like a nice fellow.”

“Yes. He’s nice.” Carol wrung her hands together, then smoothed the front of her dress that fanned over her lap. “He asked if he could visit me at school.” 

Harrie didn’t answer. Her shoulders slumped and she looked over at her suitcase, still wondering if she should get a train home that night, or at least make her way toward home. She was trying her best to not be jealous and to calmly think through what had happened that evening.

“Well?”

“That’s none of my business,” Harrie softly admitted.

“It is - “

“It's not.”

“Could it be?”

“Do you think I don’t get it, Carol? Do you think I don’t know what it means for me to be... involved with a girl like you?”

Carol was clearly taken aback by her words and slightly turned away from her. “What do you mean ‘a girl like me’?”

“A society girl,” Harrie said, “and a society girl at that who doesn’t think sleeping with another woman is some sort of aberration. You’re actually the first girl I’ve ever met who didn’t underlyingly think there was something wrong with her.”

“If I’m the ‘society girl’ that you claim to know so well, why don’t you realize things like that, dealing with men like Harge, is something I have to do?”

“Open your eyes, Carol. You’re nineteen years old and he’s… what? Twenty-five or so? He’s finished messing around with girls and wants to settle down because that’s what’s expected of him. And that’s what’s expected of you too. That’s what everyone downstairs and your whole family wants from you. The difference is he’s had a whole bunch of time to do as he pleases and be on his own. But you know what? You’re fucking smart and you have much more ahead of you than being someone’s footnote.”

“There are things I want to do, Harriet, and you know it.”

“Like what? You don’t talk about what you want.”

“I don’t know… “

“Try.”

Carol was quiet, her eyes watering at being so put on the spot about a topic she had hardly ever started to seriously consider. “I’m the first female in my family to actually go to college. Not just some finishing school, actual college. Why do you think I am busting my ass to do well?”

“Because you don't want to disappoint other people?”

“No, it’s so I can do something for myself, and have a really, really good reason why I should not or might not want to settle. Until I get my degree and find some sort of rewarding job - doing what I don’t know yet - I am going to fucking play along until I have a way out.”

“I didn’t know, about college and all.”

Carol took a deep breath and put her hand on her forehead. “I’ve never told anyone that before. I think I’ve barely confessed that to myself.”

“You can tell me things, alright?” Carol nodded her head and moved toward Harrie, hooking her arms around her neck. “I'm here to listen, and we can talk through these kinds of things together. I love you.” 

Carol released an arm from around Harrie’s neck and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Your hair is always falling in your face, making it impossible for me to see those dimples when you’re smiling.” She didn’t reply back to her with “I love you,” instead Carol gave her idle kiss once she could see her lips again.

With the silence inside the room came the noise from outside of the crickets and frogs, making so much sound it was impossible for either of them to ignore with the open windows. They held onto one another as they listened and took in the cool breezes that drafted in every couple of minutes. “I'm still leaving in the morning,” Harrie said.

“I know.”

“Will you still come up to Boston when your family leaves?”

“Absolutely.”

“Stay with me until bedtime, will ya?”

“Of course.” Carol moved closer, once more releasing one of her arms from around Harrie's neck, and slipped her hand beneath her skirt, sliding up her stockinged leg until she reached the skin of her inner thigh. “Besides, I do remember saying something about rolling down Miss Chemistry’s stockings at the end of the day… “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KkiGySEBCHY) for _The Wizard of Oz_ (1939) dir. Victor Fleming


	8. The Women

Sunday, September 3rd, 1939  
7:35 a.m.

_Hey gorgeous,_  
_The key's beneath the boot scraper - just lift! Third floor, second door on the left._  
_XOXO_  
_p.s. if it's humid (and why wouldn't it be?) the door will stick. Push firmly!_

Carol placed the notecard and envelope in her pocket, then looked down to the right and the over to her left for the boot scraper. She knelt to lift it with her gloved hand, retrieving the key from its hiding spot. The door was a bit tricky, getting stuck when she turned the doorknob and hoping it wouldn't break because if it was an 18th-century lock on the door and it did, she didn’t want to be responsible for finding the appropriate restoration contractor. Finally a firm nudge with her shoulder got the door open, which thanks to the humidity, made everything stick together as Harrie had mentioned.

She carried in her own suitcase and the taxi driver hauled in the trunk. She didn't know where best to put it, telling the driver to leave it in the entryway. As soon as the driver was paid and the door closed, Carol kicked off her shoes, removed her hat and gloves, and began to unbutton her jacket as she moved toward the staircase with her bag in her hand.

The house was exactly what she imagined one of those Beacon Hill homes to be: narrow, old, cozy. The house looked lived in, but not as though it had been seriously resided there for some time. Some of the décor was from the early- to mid-1920s; nothing in the front rooms seemed as though it had been updated any time recently, except for the radio. The staircase was lined with portraits, men and women who were probably relations on Harrie's mother's side of the family.

When she reached the third floor, there was a door open on the right; peering inside, Carol noticed it was a bright bathroom with a shower. Across the hall must be Harrie's room, she thought. She quietly walked to the door and turned the doorknob; inside she spied Harrie asleep and delicately snoring with the covers pulled up around her. Carol couldn't resist smiling at seeing her there and immediately shut the door. She turned back toward the bathroom and her suitcase, where she removed her clothes and washed up. She did have to wake up very early in order to catch the first train to Boston, and was desperately ready to go back to bed. Carol left everything but her slip in the bathroom, then made her way back across the hall to Harrie's room.

As quietly as possible, Carol pulled back the blankets, stopping to look at Harrie. Harrie, who despite not sleeping next to Carol for over two weeks, kept to “her” side of the bed while sleeping alone and even put pillows down where she knew Carol would sleep. Her heart raced as she crawled into the large four-poster bed, pressed her body against Harrie and placed an arm over her hip, letting her hand wander low and tease her with her fingers.

“Hmmm… you're here.”

“I am.”

Harrie angled her head back and kissed her. “I missed you. I missed waking up like this.”

“Quick warning: I’ve been up since three-thirty, so I may fall asleep.”

After making a small sound, Harrie moved her hips and pressed her back more against Carol. “I don’t care if you fall asleep, just keep doing that thing with your fingers as long as possible. I do warn you: I will definitely fall asleep if you make me come though.”

“I've had weeks to think about what I’d do when I saw you.”

“Weeks?”

“Exactly.”

“Was this one of the ways?”

Carol slipped inside, having missed the heat and feel of Harrie’s pulse around her, and moved her fingers in and out very slowly until they were covered with her slickness. She then dragged her fingers up and down, teasing along her to make the area as slippery as Harrie was inside. “Oh, let's just say this a favorite from my personal research,” she answered before nipping the side of her neck with her teeth.

* * *

“You fell asleep,” Carol whispered. “We fell asleep.”

“Told you. What time is it?”

“Almost one-thirty.”

Harrie turned around and curled herself into Carol's arms. “We can stay in bed for the rest of the day, right?”

“We can. I mean, it is Sunday. Did you have other plans for us?” Carol shifted in bed, rolling herself on top of Harrie with her legs spread on either side of hers. “Is it alright if I lay on top of you?”

“Yeah,” Harrie moved so she was perfectly flat on her back and Carol could rest on top of her, her head nestled beside Harrie’s on her pillow. 

Carol moved her hips to get comfortable, wriggling against the warm body beneath her. “I'm not too much?”

“Never. You're heavenly.” Harrie wrapped her arms low, around the small of her back and held her tight. “How was it with all the ruffians?

Carol hid her face into the pillow. “I would like to put all of that behind me.”

“Couldn’t have been that bad.” Carol lifted her head and blankly stared down at Harrie, managing to blink a few times. “Seriously?”

“The youngest - who’s ten months old, so I can forgive him a little - threw up in the back of the car heading to the World’s Fair, the middle one cried horrendously during _The Wizard of Oz_ \- you know, when the Wicked Witch’s face appeared in the crystal ball - and I had to take him out of the auditorium, and then the oldest walked in on me in the bath shaving my legs.”

Harrie laughed and moved the bottom of her foot to brush against the side of Carol's leg. “Did he scare you off of shaving?” 

“You ass.”

“No, I don’t care if you shave your legs or not. I will touch these legs regardless.”

“He didn't; I've just been too busy and too tired to do anything but take quick showers and wash my hair.”

“Let's see that you get well-rested over the next couple of weeks before school then.” Harrie let her hand wedge between them and drift between Carol's legs. Harrie made a sound as her fingers came into contact with her and effortlessly slid between her legs. “Why didn't you tell me you've been in this state?”

“Hmmm, I'm just letting it build until I can't take it anymore.”

Harrie moved her right leg and tapped Carol’s left leg to get her attention. “Put your legs on either side of mine.” Carol moved her legs as instructed and slid flush against her. Harrie moved her hands down to Carol's sides and then arched her own hips once to meet hers. “Right there. Perfect.”

Carol moaned and wriggled her hips, but suddenly stopped to lean down and plant kisses along her neckline. “Do that again.”

“No, gorgeous, move _your_ hips.” 

Harrie encouraged her on by securely gripping each of Carol’s hips and gently rocking her against her body. Carol merely did as instructed and moved along at a languid pace, finally understanding why Harrie had asked her to move instead of her. 

“You keep using that sexy little tongue of yours all the time - which is so amazing, I might add - “ 

Carol covered Harrie’s lips with her own to keep her quiet as she focused on where she applied pressure to both their bodies. As soon as she she couldn’t hold her breath anymore, Carol let go of Harrie’s lips and took a deep breath. 

“Bite my shoulder, Harriet.”

“What?”

“Bite my shoulder.” Harrie tilted her head down to Carol’s neck and faintly blew cool breaths against it. “Shoulder. Now.” Carol grinded herself against her one last time as Harrie bit the corner of her shoulder as instructed. A low groan emanated from the back of her throat as she came, and ultimately a loud yelp as Harrie placed her fingers inside to feel the residual tremors of their collective efforts. Her hair was messy, her shoulders were slumped, her muscles positively aching, and all Carol could do was smile. She could never remember having ever felt so outstanding in her entire life, slowly moving her body now in tune with the pace Harrie had set. “That was wonderful. Keeping doing - “

“Harrie, darling, you in there?” came the man’s voice from outside the bedroom door.

Carol stopped moving as she looked down at Harrie and mouthed, “Shit, is that your Dad?”

“What am I saying, I know you’re in there, Harrie. How are you still sleeping?”

“No, it’s Sid! Relax, relax.” Harrie grinned and tapped Carol’s leg to get her to move off her. Carol extended her arm to the nightstand to get the slip she had crumbled into a ball and tossed there when she came into the room so early in the morning. She remembered how she had left her suitcase and the clothes she had worn on the train the bathroom. Harrie threw on an undershirt and shorts she found on the floor beside her and headed straight to the door. She looked over her shoulder to check if Carol was dressed before opening the door and throwing her arms around her brother. Sid was a nice-looking young man, a few years older than Harrie, and essentially the spitting image of his sister. 

Carol loved seeing Harrie happy, but she also couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy she felt over the fact that Harrie didn’t have to explain herself or her actions to anyone, except maybe her brother. Harrie might have grown up alone, however, her family - her brother especially - loved her exactly as she was. Maybe it was that since they hardly saw each other, there was little time to worry about the small details in life and they didn’t get hung up on those things because the time they had, it was what it was. There was no pretending. Carol thought she rarely saw her sister, but she could absolutely never confide in her about Harrie.

Harrie finally muttered in his ear, “Let me introduce you.” Harrie turned back around to face Carol, keeping her arm draped across her brother’s shoulders. “This is the very lovely Miss Carol Ross. Carol, this is my brother, Dr. Sidney Lovell - call him Sid though, everyone does.”

“Pleased to finally meet you, Sid. Do call me Carol though.”

“Very nice to meet you as well, Carol.” Sid turned to Harrie, not even trying to hide what he was saying and loudly whispered, “How is it you got a hot blonde?”

“Shhh,” Harrie laughed, “don’t let Jamie hear you. Wait, is he downstairs?”

“James? He’s downstairs, yes.”

Harrie looked at Carol and smiled. “James is Sid’s… how is it you refer to each other again? I can’t remember anymore.“

“Partner?” Sid offered. 

Carol blushed. She'd never met a man who went with another man before, at least who outright told her he did, she thought. There were plenty of young men from the country club who she had met that she was fairly certain preferred the company other men, however none of them actually said anything about it. Not like they could, she reasoned. Harrie removed her arm from her brother’s shoulders and went back to the bed to sit beside Carol. Sid leaned against the doorframe and watched his sister closely for a moment. 

“When’s Dad coming back?”

Sid squinted at his sister and shook his head. “Have you two been sleeping this entire time?”

“Well, yeah, more or less.” Harrie blushed and brushed her hair back. “Carol got in early and we, uh - “

“Oh, nevermind,” he sighed with a grin as he began to leave the room.

“Sid, you didn't answer me. Where’s Dad?”

“Still at Nan’s.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll explain when you come down.”

Carol wanted to put her arm around her, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about doing that in front of someone else, especially someone she just met. Even though Sid didn’t seem as though he cared one way or another if someone had their arms around his younger sister. She could see the disappointment in Harrie's eyes, despite her cheerfulness of seeing her brother, she still missed her father. Instead, Carol nudged her hand close to where Harrie’s rested on the bed, the briefest contact to let her know that she was there with her. 

“Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and at least leave us to dress?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll see you two downstairs.” Sid shut the door and left the two of them sitting up in bed. 

As soon as the door was shut, Carol took Harrie's hand in hers and reached out to touch her face. She brushed her fingers against the side, making Harrie's smile and softly purr. “Everything's okay.”

“I know, it's just… “

“You have me and I'm here, for whatever that's worth.”

Harrie kissed the back of Carol's fingers as they grazed her lips. “Love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too.” Carol took her hand from Harrie's face and placed it over their joined hands on the bed. “Now, how is it your brother has an English accent and you don’t?”

The change of topic did Harrie some good because she immediately laughed at the question and forgot her worries for at least a minute. “I went to school here, he went to school over there. They just happened to be more insistent.”

“Ah, so that’s why you can’t say the letter r if your life depended on it?”

“But it’s so _hahd_.” Harrie kissed the tip of her nose and pounced out of bed to pull out some clothes.

* * *

Carol and Harrie had slept through all the morning's news and all the morning broadcasts, oblivious to what was happening outside of their own little world. They heard how on Friday the Germans had invaded Poland and the British were giving them two days to withdraw before intervening. It was James who had heard the re-broadcast of the Prime Minister Chamberlain’s declaration of war from earlier in the morning and had to tell everyone to pipe down while they sat around the radio chatting in the afternoon. 

“What's going to happen to Dad?”

“I don't know.”

“What about you two?” 

Sid shrugged and looked over to James who was fiddling with a chair pillow he held in his arms. Neither of them said a word.

“Do you… go back?” Sid again shrugged and sat back in the armchair. “Do I?” This time, Sid firmly shook his head no. 

“The Germans already torpedoed a passenger ship off of Ireland traveling from Glasgow to Montreal. I don’t think any of us can go anywhere,” suggested Sid. “We should at least cable Dad to say we made it, and see if there's anything we can do at all from here.” He motioned with his head to James who got up from his seat and made his way to the foyer to grab their hats. “We'll be back in a bit. Then, how about we have tea?”

Glancing at the clock, it was barely three and far too early. Harrie faintly smiled at her brother who was putting on his hat. “Is this you requesting tea at home or tea out?”

“Could we have tea here?”

“Sure, and Carol can be mother.”

“What?” Carol asked with a startled voice. Harrie waved her off with a laugh and squeezed her hand back.

Sid ran his finger along the brim of his hat a couple times and paused. “Thanks, I'd like to be near Jamie right now and - “

“It's fine, Sid. I got my best gal here to assist me,” Harrie said with a wink over to Carol. She kissed Sid and James on their way out, then stood in the drawing room alone with Carol who was still listening to the radio on low as she rested in a nearby chair.

“What are we making?”

“No sandwiches today because I know my brother hasn’t eaten anything and I know you eat nothing but sandwiches when you’re by yourself. I’m making a savory pie and a cake; you’re washing, peeling or chopping vegetables, and cracking eggs. ”

Carol rested her hand on her hip and tilted her head. “I can do more than that.”

“Yes, which is keep me company.”

“Or is it you don’t trust me with cooking?” Harrie smiled and darted into the kitchen. Carol ran after her, bolting through the double-hinged doors. “Hey! Don’t skirt the question!”

* * *

11:48 p.m.

The boys wired their families to say they made it back without a problem and that everything was alright in Boston. By the time they had returned from the movies, there was a response waiting with no more instruction other than to sit tight. The newsreels might have been days old, but with Sid and James traveling for six days any newsreels they saw were new and informative. By the time they arrived home, it was after eleven and actually cool enough to open the windows to let in the late-night breeze.

“I would never want to be divorced,” Harrie said as she rested her chin on Carol’s shoulder as she brushed one side of her hair. Harrie was always ready for bed unlike Carol who insisted on brushing her hair all the time. “Especially when there are children involved. It just… makes me sad.”

“Did you know a lot of girls with divorced parents when you were little?”

“No, I mean, over there and the families we know, no, not so much. That’s changing nowadays though. On the other hand, I knew more girls here growing up with divorced parents. The non-Catholic ones, of course.”

Carol looked at Harrie in the reflection of the mirror and put the brush in her lap. “We both grew up without mothers during our formative years. Kind of similar in some ways, having one parent and all, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Harrie broke her gaze with Carol and held her snugly around the waist. 

“Two people get married because they love each other and then, one day they wake up and what? It’s all for naught?” Carol tapped her opposite shoulder and said, “Switch sides.”

Harrie shuffled to Carol’s right side and rested her chin there while she continued to brush her hair. “They _think_ they love each other, that’s what hurts the most.” Harrie looked at the teeth marks on Carol’s shoulder and kissed the purplish spot. “Does this ache at all?”

“No, not really,” Carol sighed as she looked at the mark in the mirror. “Thank you for doing that. I, uh, don’t… know… “

Harrie kissed the bite again and rubbed Carol’s abdomen to soothe her. “It’s fine, Carol. I liked it. I mean, I’ve never, you know, done that, but it was fun and you were - quite - uninhibited when you let go. I love seeing you like that.”

“Yes, but, I… asked you to do something to hurt me.”

“It’s okay to do things like that with a person you love and trust.” Harrie kept kissing along her shoulder. 

“Should I do that with you some time?”

“You can, however remember I’m a big wimp. Maybe stick to my neck.” Harrie glanced up to look at the expression on Carol’s face and then over to the hand gripping the hairbrush. “Have you ever thought about painting your fingernails red?”

“Like what? ‘Jungle Red’? Like all the ladies in _The Women_?”

“You’d look lovely with red fingernails.”

“ _You’d_ look lovely with red fingernails sliding in and out of me.”

Harrie was pretty certain she stopped breathing as soon as those words escaped Carol’s lips. Carol had been like this from the moment she arrived, and not that she minded it, but it was impressive to see the usually shy Carol be so presumptive. In the few months they had known each other, Carol had hardly been able to express what she wanted, nonetheless that wasn’t the case when she apparently stepped off the train into Boston.

“I’m trying to be more bold with what I want.”

“I see, and hear. And you never have to explain to me.” Harrie started to let one hand trail just beneath her breasts and the other drift down Carol’s abdomen and below to the silky short pants she wore. “You’re awfully wet, gorgeous.”

“You’ve been kissing my shoulder and have had your breasts pushed against my back and you smell so good… but I’m kind of sore from earlier.” 

“I can use my tongue. Very, very softly... very, very lightly? I haven’t tasted you in a couple weeks and I've missed that.” Harrie kissed the side of her neck and pressed herself more tightly against her body. 

“What can I say? I'm all yours.” Carol stood to remove the remaining clothes she had on and pulled the light cord to keep the room from getting any hotter than it already was and would still be getting. "L'amour, l'amour... "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZV0k77ih8Q) for _The Women_ (1939) dir. George Cukor


	9. Beau Geste

Thursday, September 14th, 1939  
11:50 a.m.

“Did you find everything you wanted?”

Carol looked at the box tucked under her arm and the small shopping bag hanging from her wrist. Shopping in Boston was certainly different than New York: less big department stores, far more bookstores and specialty shops. “I think so. I mean, we’ll have to check when the rest arrives by delivery tomorrow.”

“There’s still a week until we have to go back, and our trunks get picked up on Monday. Not like it’s a far walk to the shops.” Harrie reached over and took the box from under her arm. “I got that,” she said quietly, trying not to make a big fuss of it.

“You don’t have to carry my packages.”

“I want to. Otherwise, some dandy do-gooder will show up trying to help you carry them and then attempt to walk us back to the house, or worse - invite himself for luncheon.”

Carol laughed at the thought of some young man trying to help the two of them manage a medium-sized box and a small bag that they were perfectly capable of carrying on their own. “We wouldn’t want that,” she scoffed.

“Besides,” she confided as she patted the box held snugly beneath her arm, “I like being the keeper of your unmentionables.”

“You do like that, don’t you?” Carol asked. She wasn’t expecting an answer from Harrie as they began to walk toward the elevator other than the smile Harrie gave as she turned around to wink at her. “There’s something for you in that box.”

“Me? As in me to wear or you to wear for our mutual enjoyment?”

“Oh, you to wear for our mutual enjoyment.” Carol pressed the elevator button, closely watching Harrie carry the wrapped box and wait for the elevator carriage to arrive.

Harrie peered over her shoulder to see if anyone else was waiting for the elevator with them. “It’s just going to end up on the floor you know.”

“Yes, but before that, you’ll be wearing it and I will know exactly what it is you have on beneath your clothes, pressed against all those parts I wish I could be kissing.” 

Before Harrie could open her mouth, the elevator dinged to announce its arrival and Carol walked in first. Speechless, Harrie stood outside the elevator and looked directly at Carol who silently stood in the back right corner of the carriage, holding her shopping bag as though she hadn’t said a single word.

“Are you getting in, Miss?” the elevator operator asked.

Harrie nodded her head and walked inside, taking the spot to Carol’s right. When the elevator operator turned around to face the buttons and the door, Carol looked over with a smile as she bit her bottom lip as she nudged her with her hip. “What time are Sid and James meeting us under the clock?”

“Quarter past.”

“Do we still have time to head to cosmetics? I want to pick up some nailpolish.”

“You finally going for Jungle Red?”

“Maybe… “

Trying to hide her grin, Harrie shook her head and muttered, “You’re so impressionable sometimes.”

* * *

As soon as he finished eating, Sid placed napkin to the right of his plate and waved a finger at Harrie. “You owe us. Last week was _The Women_ \- which we both adored, mind you - but let’s go for something a bit more masculine, shall we?”

“You two go for something masculine every day, every week, every month… “ Harrie complained. She glared at Carol who said nothing but smirked as she used her dessert fork to cut the tip of her slice of pie. Harrie knew exactly what her brother and James wanted to see. “Not _Beau Geste_ , Sid,” she groaned.

“Yes, _Beau Geste_. All those French Foreign Legion lads… “ James said drifting off until Sid smacked the corner of his shoulder. 

“But Sid, we actually wanted to go dancing tonight, especially since you two are here and it kind of looks like we have, you know, ‘dates’.”

Carol put her fork down and reached over to touch Harrie’s hand. “Darling, we can go tomorrow. Besides, Friday night will probably be more enjoyable.” 

“Tonight: movies out, dancing at home. Think of it as practice. That way we can all enjoying dancing how we please without going to one of those clubs,” Sid suggested. 

“Ah,” Harrie said with a knowing smile. “I can pick out some music after we’ve tidied all this up. You’ll help me with that, won’t you, Carol?”

“The tidying or the music selection?”

“The music,” she answered then turned her attention to her brother and James. “Technically, the boys should be the ones doing the tidying since we put all of this together.”

“Should we?” James whispered to Sid, who eagerly nodded his head, then jokingly and proudly stated, “Fair enough. You two are excused.”

Harrie rose from the table, smacking James in the arm as she walked past him, and made her way into the neighboring room where she sat down in front of the radio and music cabinet. Carol joined her once she had stacked the plates on the table, sitting next to Harrie who had already started patiently pulling out music for later.

“Alright if I put on the radio?” Carol tucked her legs to the side and leaned toward Harrie who leafed through the records. 

“Go right ahead.” Harrie turned her head and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Carol placed her hand on Harrie's leg and gingerly squeezed to let her know she appreciated her affections.

“Are there any nightclubs in town?”

“Well, sure. It's not Manhattan, but there are plenty of - “

“Nightclubs. For us. Like your brother mentioned yesterday.”

“Oh. That.” Harrie thought for a moment as she went through the selection of records, putting them into two different piles beside her. “There are some clubs here in Boston, but they don’t really cater to women much. I don’t like them really, then again, you’re supposed to be twenty-one to go in, but no one really cares. Many are mainly for men anyways. Why? Would you like to go to one?”

“I’m just curious to see, or rather, be around… other... girls like us.”

Harrie kicked off her saddle shoes as Carol tugged at her socks, taking them off and placing them inside of Harrie’s shoes. “There’s not much to see, honestly. Have you ever seen a - I don’t know how to put it - I guess, a masculine girl before? In a topper and tails?”

Carol paused. She had never seen a woman in a man’s suit before, nor had she ever seen a man in a dress before either for that matter. It wasn’t a particular interest of hers, nonetheless she was curious. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Well then, perhaps we ought to expand your horizons. I heard there's a new ladies-only spot nearby, just through the Common.”

Glancing up from the stack of records Harrie had started near her, Carol looked up and nodded. “I would like to see that.”

Harrie wiggled her toes, then in tune with the music, tapped her foot against the exposed part of Carol’s leg. “It might do some good to see some other women out there. I mean, once in a while, it helps you feel a little less alone in this world. Don’t get me wrong: I don't feel alone with you. I never do. Just sometimes, we close ourselves off in order to not reveal so much. It’s hard because we create our own little sphere of existence, don’t we?”

“I like our little world though. You. Me. The boys.” Carol liked how Sid and James were “the boys,” and in turn, she and Harrie were now always “the girls.” Harrie said they had always been referred to within the family as “the boys,” and everyone else with whom they were acquainted seemed to refer to them as such as well. Despite having known Sid and James for only a week, Carol absolutely adored them, especially when the boys took to calling the two of them “the girls.” It made her truly feel as though she belonged and that they accepted her as part of their peculiar little family. 

Harrie extended her hands forward, grasping for Carol’s legs to pull her closer, and let out an abrupt shriek as Harrie tugged her leg and dragged her a couple inches toward her. “Tomorrow? Alright? I’ll tell Sid. Just you, and probably me keeping an endless assortment of girls from asking you to dance.”

After dinner, after the movies, and after a pleasant walk back, they returned to their tranquil house, stuffy from an evening of shut windows and the downstairs still smelling like the pie Harrie has baked that morning. As soon as they got inside, Carol and Harrie changed their shoes, then went into the kitchen to pull out couple bottles of Champagne from the icebox and two bottles of red wine Sid had brought up from the basement earlier.

“How much are we going to be drinking?” Carol exclaimed when she saw the bottles in Harrie’s arms.

“Enough that it'll be like going out.” While Harrie retrieved some glasses and a corkscrew, Carol took what remained of the pie from the oven and found a fork. “Unless you want to mix drinks for us?”

“No, you're good at that, not me. I just ought to have something more in my stomach if we're drinking that.” She ate a couple bites and cut off a final piece that she held out for Harrie to eat whose hands were full. “Pie?”

Harrie opened her mouth as Carol approached with the fork and a hand beneath to make sure nothing spilled or made crumbs everywhere. 

“You two are sickeningly adorable.” Sid amusingly complained, standing with his hands on his hips and impatiently waiting for the drinks. He had already taken off her jacket and loosened his collar. “You can resume your adorableness in the drawing room, but I'm dying for something now.”

Carol took one of the Champagne bottles from Harrie, untwisted the muselet, and began to loosen the cork. The pop of the cork coming free startled her and Carol made a sound as it opened. She carefully poured three glasses, passing one glass to Harrie and then to her brother. 

“Where’s Jamie?” Harrie walked to the kitchen door and swung it open, shouting for James to join them in the kitchen. Carol could never get over the fact that in private, Harrie and her family loved shouting back and forth at each other rather than go downstairs or into an adjacent room to relay information. It took some getting used to, especially when she was reading or she and Harrie were in bed. It was just how they were, and was perfect in its own way.

* * *

Friday, September 15th, 1939  
1:35 a.m.

James got up from the floor to change the record. “You want music or the radio?” After hours of drinking and dancing together in the drawing room, the four of them were tired, particularly Sid and Harrie who had both kicked off their shoes, segregating them to a far corner of the room where they couldn’t get in the way.

“Music, please.” Carol replied. 

“This was a good idea for tonight, Sid.” Harrie said. Settling her back against the bottom of the couch, between where her brother sat, Harrie took a glass of Champagne in her hand and slowly sipped the contents. Carol rested with her head in Harrie’s lap, leaning back and letting her stroke her hair. The nights were getting cooler, but were still muggy enough that sitting on the floor was refreshing and relaxing.

Sid glanced down at his sister, removing his tie and resting his head back on the edge of the couch. He pulled out his cigarette case and before he could put it away, Carol stretched her arm up. “Pass me one, would you?” Sid opened the case again and pulled out a cigarette for Carol.

“Oh, Sid, we’re going to a ladies’ club tomorrow night, so you and Jamie will be on your own.” Harrie said.

“That’s fine. Just mind out for each other.”

Carol started laughing and coughed as she inhaled her cigarette. “Harriet will bring her cricket bat and give anyone who gives us trouble a good wallop.”

As soon as James selected a record, he went over to where the three of them sat and copied Carol’s position on the couch, resting with his head in Sid’s lap. “This is wonderful,” he sighed.

“Once I finish this cigarette, would anyone care to dance?” Carol asked.

“I will,” James offered, holding up his arm, and not caring that he had just gotten comfortable on the sofa.

Once Carol finished her cigarette and James got up to dance with her, Harrie took his place on the sofa and rested against her brother. “I wish Dad were here.”

“We couldn’t do this if Dad were here, Harrie.”

“Could so. He doesn’t care what we do because I don’t already have a couple of nippers undertow, and you're not getting any girl pregnant and having to marry her all last-minute. He's got no worries about us kids and he's always loved that about the two of us. Besides, you know Dad. He’s always let us be very independent.”

Sid laughed and motioned with his head toward Carol and James dancing by the unlit fireplace. “How long have you and Carol been together?” he asked. “You didn’t mention any of those details in your letters.”

Harrie cleared her throat and grasped the bottle of Champagne to refill her glass. “We met at the movie theater near campus back in April.”

“I'm not surprised.”

“And we, just… sort of… you know.”

“Fell in love?”

Thinking back to that day, Harrie beamed at the memory of Carol, all dressed for classes, hair neatly done, crying her eyes out at a children’s cartoon, and sorely missing a much-needed handkerchief. Carol was so shy, so reluctant to ask her for a handkerchief or even really talk about herself. It was the way she looked at her, that knowing look in her eyes that made Harrie realize how much she had changed in the six months since they had met, how much more forward she had become. "Yes, well, it took time, not that much time, I mean, for us to… be together… Honestly, Sid, she's the brightest and sweetest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention she makes me laugh.”

“Harrie, she’s stunning. Are you in the same year?”

“No, she’ll be a Sophomore. Second year.”

“Ah, so next summer, we’re going to be having some morose conversations in this house. If we’re still Stateside, that is. And if you're still - ”

“Sid, don’t say that. I'm very lucky to have found someone like her.”

“No, no, darling… she’s lucky to have found you.”

Harrie watched Carol dance, laughing and gracefully moving around the floor with James who had assuredly found the best female dancer partner he’d ever had.

* * *

Carol and James danced, swaying together to a slow song from a one of the more quiet albums in the collection. “We’ve been together, what? Ten years now?” James said, looking over at Sid who sat engaged in a conversation with his sister. “We met at school. I was, oh, seventeen, Sid was sixteen then.”

“Did you know you loved him when you met him?”

“I think so.” James twirled her once and they rejoined hands. “He was a complete brat, but my God, if he wasn’t the most charming young man I’d ever met.”

“Sounds hereditary,” Carol retorted, angling her neck to see Harrie now upside down on the couch and raising a hand to poke a finger in her brother’s chest. She nudged James to look over at Sid and Harrie who were teasing each other and bickering about some point of contention. “Good thing we love them so much.”

James turned his attention back to Carol. “You’re quite the dancer.”

“Thanks. Same to you.”

“You’re too kind. I’m pleased I’ve met someone I can dance with… unlike someone else I know.”

Carol felt comfortable around James. Sid as well. They were so different than the clumsy young men she had met at her coming out party. Years ahead of someone like Harge, despite them being almost the same ages. Not rough around the edges, not trying to impress anyone. Carol held onto him tightly until it was time to flip over the record.

* * *

“Would you like us to give you a ride back to school? We’re thinking of heading up to Montreal for a week or so and thought we’d drive. Sadly, Jamie has never experienced a New England autumn.”

“If you gave us a ride, that’d be swell. I’m sure Carol would appreciate it too. You know how much Jamie loves driving over here.” Harrie paused as she looked back over to Carol and James, noting the two of them had stopped dancing so James could make some motion with his hands and fingers. “What exactly is James doing?”

Sid watched James move his arms around to Carol’s waist, then pull her tightly against him and lower his hands to her backside. “He’s, uh, showing her a trick.” Harrie noticed that she certainly wasn't bothered by whatever it was because Carol smiled and laughed as his hands must have tickled her or caught her by surprise. “Not much good that particular one would do you two though.”

“Huh?”

Sid laughed. “Never you mind. They do look awfully nice dancing together.” Suddenly, he stopped laughing and turned more solemn as he looked down to his sister. “Be careful.”

“Now, Sid - “

“I'm serious, Harrie. I know you’re in love with her.”

“She loves me too, you know. It's not one-sided; not like… you remember.”

“I remember. Be mindful, that's all.” Sid took the empty glass from his sister's hand and placed it upon the table beside him, replacing the glass she held with his hand. He sighed and held her tightly as he watched James and Carol dance. Once the record ended, Sid looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows. “It's getting late, and James and I are heading to the consulate in the morning. Best be off to bed.”

Harrie didn't move, and keeping her head on Sid's lap, she shut her eyes as though she hadn't heard him speak. Carol heard him though and walked over to her curled up on the couch. “Harriet? Don't fall asleep yet.” 

Harrie opened one eye and raised her arms in the air at the sight of Carol. “Help me up, gorgeous, would you?” 

Carol pulled her up, freeing Sid so he could actually stand. Carol watched as he removed strands of Harrie’s hair from his lap, shaking his head as he brushed the front of his trousers. “Goodnight, Carol. You’re an absolute angel for dealing with this hellion who sheds like a beast.” They kissed each other on the cheek before he left, standing in the doorway waiting for James who also staggered over to kiss them goodnight and follow Sid upstairs.

“Dance with me again?” Carol asked once they were alone, wrapping her arm around Harrie's waist and clasping her hand.

“As long as you’re leadin’.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks, it's just… “

“Just what?”

“I want you to hold me while we dance.”

“All right.” Carol released Harrie and let her shake her shoulders before switching positions. Carol chided herself for a moment, regretting having automatically assumed Harrie would be the one to lead. She didn't know why she thought that, perhaps because it was her house and her space, she tried to rationalize. “Should I change the record?”

“Yes, something else.” Reading the titles of the records, Carol had no idea which one fit what they needed or what “something else” was supposed to be. She shuffled through the titles with a confused look, which Harrie noticed after a minute and walked over to look herself. “Here, let me.”

Moments later low, soft music was coming from the record player as they danced together around the room. Fortunately for Carol she had plenty of experience leading since she was almost always taller than the other girls. At least Harrie being the same height helped and felt comfortable. “Sometimes, I worry I love you more than you love me.” Harrie murmured into Carol's shoulder. She kept moving as though she hadn't said the sentence aloud, clinging to Carol and taking deep breaths. 

Harrie was talking nonsense, not realizing what she was saying. “Don't say that. You know that's not true.”

“You do love me, but I don't think - “

“Harriet, stop. You drank almost an entire bottle of Champagne.” She looked over at the clock on the bookshelf, then turned back toward Harrie. “It’s almost three. Let's go upstairs, go to bed, and sleep it off.”

“I'm not drunk. A definite yes though to getting into bed with you,” she giggled as she seized Carol’s hips to pull her in more.

“You are only a bit tipsy and you're very warm. Regardless, we're going upstairs because you're not making sense and I won't hear you say such things.”

“I'm perfectly fine.”

“And you're showering first. You reek of cigarettes and you're terribly sweaty.”

“I do not,” Harrie replied then wiped her hand on her damp brow. “Oh, you're right.”

Carol led her up to the bathroom across from the room they shared and turned on only half the lights in the room to keep it dim. “Go lean against the sink for a sec.” Harrie did as instructed, but began to toy with the buttons of her blouse and tug the hem from its place tucked under her skirt. Carol turned on the shower and let the water warm just enough before returning her attention to Harrie. “Why'd you drink so much? That's not like you. You usually have two beers and that’s that.”

“I don't know, just felt like it. Haven’t had Champagne in a while, I suppose.” Harrie was flustered, and placed her hands on Carol's shoulders to retain her balance. “Why have _you_ been smokin’ so much lately? I may reek of your cigarettes at the moment, but they make you taste like a fuckin’ ashtray down there.” 

As soon as Harrie said it and saw the expression on Carol's face change, she regretted the honesty of her words and hung her head, however didn't apologize right away.

“I didn’t know that,” Carol quietly said in her defense, getting incredibly embarrassed and turning the deepest shade of red. Her cheeks became so warm they felt like they were scalding hot to the touch. She shakily unzipped Harrie’s skirt and pushed it down to the floor, then helped her unbutton her shirt which clung to her skin from the sweat. “I won’t - you don't have to do that anymore if - “

“Like hell I'd stop,” Harrie interjected. “If you like to smoke, go ahead and smoke. I’m not stoppin’ you; however, what you take in, well, permeates throughout.”

“You should have told me earlier. Fuck, you probably hate doing - ”

“Oh, God, no! I could never, ever hate that with you. Ever. Please believe me. Just, you know, eat lots of fruit and you'll be so sweet I'll get a toothache.” Harrie coughed as Carol reached behind her back to remove her bra, her face expressionless as she undid the hooks. “Even though I'm a complete arse and don't deserve your kindness, will you get in with me?” she asked once she heard her bra fall to the floor.

“No. You wash up. I'll be right here though.” Carol released the clasps on Harrie's stockings, rolling them neatly down each leg and finally working them over the heel of each foot to remove. She loved the path her hands took to remove them: from the tops of her thighs, between her legs, past her knees, over her calves, then down to her feet. There was so much delightfully soft skin to touch, and Harrie would shiver wherever Carol's hands went until she would ultimately encourage Carol's mouth to be exactly where she wanted it and her tongue licking at just the right pace. Not this time though. She couldn't think about that sort of thing after what Harrie had said.

As soon as the garter belt was off, Harrie was able to remove the rest of her clothes. She stepped into the shower and stood motionless beneath the lukewarm water, breathing heavily, without closing the curtain. “I'm sorry you have to look after me right now. You shouldn't have to. I should have been more responsible. And I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“Harriet, you can have fun. You won't always be perfectly responsible all the time. I won’t be either. Accept that. I'm here, I can help. Like right now, you're getting water everywhere,” Carol sighed as she pulled a towel from the rack and tossed it onto the floor to sop up the water. “As for my feelings, apology accepted. I just… didn't realize it. You were being truthful. Blunt, but truthful. Honestly though, watch your mouth when you drink like that.”

Harrie blushed and sank to the bottom of the bathtub, letting the water trickle down on her from above to keep it from accumulating outside the shower. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, keeping herself in a little ball at the back of the bath. “I think I'm lashing out because I miss my Dad and don't know when I'll see him again.”

Carol sat on the tiles beside the tub, putting her hands on the edge beside Harrie's; she had never seen her so sad and fearful since they had known each other, never this level of upset. There had never been a time where Carol was in a situation where someone else needed her emotionally like this. Sure she had looked after one of her nephews when he scraped a knee or watched over her grandfather that Christmas she was home and he had the flu, but this was different. This was a sadness she recognized, one of being alone. And scared. Hearing the pain in her voice unnerved Carol because Harrie was always so upbeat, even in the most difficult circumstances. It was the uncertainty and anxiety that was making her behavior erratic with the past week trying her patience. Carol thought she would have been accustomed to this kind of separation from her father that it wouldn't bother her as much, but the loneliness and distance were perhaps too great for Harrie to ignore anymore.

“I'm not entirely sure what to say,” admitted Carol as she grazed her fingers across Harrie’s hand.

“You don't always have to have an answer. You can just listen. Sometimes, I only want someone to hear me.”

Her hair had finally become wet and matted, plastered to the top of her head, as she sat in the tub. Carol remembered when she was little, one thing her mother liked doing for her was washing her hair in the sink. Carol would bring down a towel and the shampoo, and her mother would get the water to just the right temperature. Then, she'd lean her head forward over the basin to let her mother wet and lather her hair. Her mother would massage her scalp as she lathered, and Carol laughed to herself at the thought of not having truly appreciated the scalp massages she had when she was younger. 

Carol stood, turned off the shower, and plugged the tub, changing the water flow from the showerhead to the bath. She gathered a couple towels and the bottle of shampoo from under the cabinet. One towel she placed on the floor beside the back of the tub and the other next to her. “Lean forward.” Harrie silently obeyed as Carol removed her shoes and all her clothes. She noticed a hole in the heel of one stocking and a run in the other, both far beyond any repair. Reaching for the bottle of shampoo, Carol dipped one hand into the water to wet it then poured some onto her hand to create a lather. Carol had only managed a couple scrubs when she heard a contented sigh from Harrie.

“You will never know how incredibly lucky you are, Carol,” she said.

Carol kept massaging in the shampoo, not wanting to say anything and instead focus on making Harrie feel better. As she kept going, she couldn't help but negate what she'd said. “Stop saying that or I won't get into this tub with you when we're done with your hair.” Carol finally lifted her hands from her head and dropped them into the clean water to rinse so she could reach Harrie's face and tilt her towards her. Her eyes were tightly closed so soap couldn't get in them, and Carol gently used her hands to scrape anyway any shampoo lather around her face, again dipping them into the water and angled her chin so she could gently kiss her on the lips. “I'm the one who's lucky to have found _you_. Always, always remember that.”

* * *

Saturday, September 16th, 1939  
12:43 a.m.

The club was dark, much darker than Carol thought it would be, even the tables off to every corner were somehow dimmer and hardly illuminated by the small table lamps. No one seemed to question if Carol was twenty-one or not; it didn’t matter much for Harrie though who had a birthday coming up in a month or so. Harrie found them a booth along the back wall, a good place from where they could watch everyone coming and going, as well as have the slightest bit of privacy in the back corner. Poor Harrie was stuck drinking ginger ales and ice water, while Carol ordered dry Martinis with olives and threw them back as fast as they came to the table.

After getting three drinks in her, Carol finally had the courage to ask Harrie to dance, remarking that she wasn’t sure if she was more nervous over dancing with a girl in public or if she had been more nervous dancing with the young men at her coming out party. She didn’t quite understand why she was nervous, the two of them danced together all the time in the drawing room. Maybe the thought of dancing with a crowd of onlookers startled her. Nonetheless, it was nice to be out among other women like them; being able to touch Harrie’s hand or give her a peck on the cheek outside of the house on Chestnut Street was a slight thrill in itself. 

“Are you having a good time?” Carol nodded as she held onto Harrie’s waist. “Good.”

“It’s not - like - other clubs I’ve heard about.”

“Eh, it’s Boston. We’re our own little… “ Harrie stopped talking and motioned with her head toward the back corner of the club, “Is that… is that Mam’selle Fournier?”

Harrie turned Carol around so she could look properly at the far off booth. Carol had to squint, and then the expression on her face changed the moment she realized her French literature professor from the previous semester was only a couple booths down from their own table and not far from where they happened to be dancing.. “Oh, no,” Carol muttered and loosened her hold on Harrie’s waist.

“No, Carol,” Harrie said, keeping Carol’s hand snugly clasped in hers. “They’re here for primarily the same reason we are. It’s fine. Trust me. ”

“Should I… go say hello? Or should I just stay here and ignore her? It’s not like Emily Post had a chapter in _Etiquette_ about appropriate decorum in an establishment such as this.”

Harrie turned to look over her shoulder, somehow making eye contact with Mademoiselle Fournier who was sitting in a corner booth with her arm draped over an equally pretty redhead’s slender shoulders. To Carol’s surprise, Harrie gave her a quick wave and a smile, although in the darkness it was probably a bit difficult to make out the perky smile on her face.

“Why’d the hell you do that?”

“I had her for French Sophomore year. I wasn’t necessarily her best student, but… “ Harrie tapped the side of her nose with her forefinger a couple times and winked at Carol.

“Harriet!”

“What? It’s not like I slept with her.”

Carol exasperatedly let go of Harrie’s hand and began to make her way over to their table; however, after only a few steps she abruptly turned around and walked back to Harrie, “We’ll talk about that later.” Carol didn’t have to say anything more as she marched over to her French professor’s booth a few feet down to speak with her.

Utterly amused, Harrie relaxed back in her seat, observing everything from their own corner table while sipping her second ginger ale since it was all her stomach could handle after the Champagne from the day before. She watched as Carol sat down with them and was introduced to the redhead accompanying Mademoiselle Fournier. Harrie figured they chatted among themselves for around ten minutes until Carol finally rose and shook their hands, reappearing at the table without making any attempt to sit.

“Well? What did she say?”

Carol stood at the table, directly in front of Harrie to hide the expression on her face, absolutely silent and still before she could even think of sitting down, trying to translate from French into English after drinking three dry Martinis in rapid succession. She cleared her throat and then smiled once she found the words. “She said - and I am translating this - she didn’t have to see me in here dancing with you to know I liked girls because my essay lauding Flaubert's description of Madame Bovary’s hands gave it all away. Now I'd hate to think what my history of art essays have shown.” 

Harrie covered her face, lowering her hands so only her eyes and raised eyebrows showed. “I've seen your essays. Lots of breasts. Thirty percent contain 'curve of her breast.’”

“Then she said in front of her date or whoever, mind you - and who I’m pretty sure doesn’t speak a lick of French - that I have a ‘ _petit cul mignon_ ’ and to make sure ' _ma minette_ ’ appreciates it.”

“Yeah,” Harrie nodded and angled her head to openly appreciate Carol’s shape, “I mean, _bien noté_ about your cute ass, but what… “

“Pussycat.”

“Pussycat?”

“Pussycat.”

Desperately trying to hold in a laugh, Harrie could only raise an eyebrow and mewl like a kitten. “Pussycat.” 

“Stop.”

“One must admit, she’s good.”

“Jesus Christ, Harriet,” Carol said with a grimace as she finally took a seat, “I have her again starting in a couple weeks.”

“Oh, gorgeous, I think you already got an A for the year. She’s also probably totally loaded, so I will let it slide this one time.” 

“I am so embarrassed.”

Harrie got up from her seat across from Carol and sat beside her, placing a hand on her thigh. “You went over, said hello, were all polite, had some kind of drunken conversation with one another in French, and that’s that. No worries. Days like today remind us we’re not so alone in the world after all.” Carol raised her head and glanced around the room at the other couples, all laughing, dancing, conversing, and generally having a good time. This wasn’t her sort of crowd, Harrie understood that. “What do you say we go home where we can very nicely, very quietly, and very discreetly dance with each other, and positively no one else will be appreciating your arse. Except for me.”

“Sold.”

“Or touching it. Except for me. Meow.” 

After that night, every time Harrie made any kind of cat-related sound, Carol would simply swat her arm then shake her head in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H4qZljsdKlA) for _Beau Geste_ (1939) dir. William A. Wellman


	10. Ninotchka

Tuesday, September 26th, 1939  
8:05 a.m.

First day of classes. First day of classes as a senior, Harrie thought as she sauntered her way toward Carol’s room. So many bright, shining, eager faces on that September morning, so many young women completely oblivious to the fact that in two weeks, they would be utterly exhausted from studying, classes, sports, clubs, and everything else that went with college life. She was just going to be perfectly calm about it, not let things stress her out in her final year. There would be plenty for her to worry about when she left college and went to grad school - wherever that might be. For now though…

Harrie walked up the house steps, nearly crashing into another student who rushed out, blowing open the door in her wake. Harrie scurried up the steps to catch it, preventing it from slamming, and turned back to the girl who had come running out. 

“You know what floor Carol’s on?”

“Second floor,” the girl replied as she kept walking away from the house, “I think she’s still asleep though.”

Asleep? Harrie took a peek at her wristwatch. 

Harrie entered the house which as fairly similar to where she had lived on campus for the last three years. This one seemed to be the residence of lots of artsy types, bulky canvases sitting in the front room, oversized art history books on the shelves, reprints of European masterpieces on the walls. It fit Carol very nicely, Harrie thought. 

As she walked up the staircase, the house was even quieter. No one was in the bathroom, no one rushing to get themselves together for class, no sounds of anyone snoring in their beds. Well, except for one room. 

Even without looking at the nameplate, Harrie knew the rolling sounds of Carol’s snores and behind which door she could find her. She reached for the doorknob, pleased to find it unlocked, and peered her head around the corner. Carol had already unpacked her trunk and placed whatever she could into the drawers and the closet. Only her tea set and utensils remained on the window sill without a home. New textbooks and notebooks sat on the desk along with the black fountain pen Harrie had given her for her birthday. 

There in bed, sprawled out with the sheet and blankets in complete disarray, was Carol. Sleeping on her back with an arm raised above her head, the other tucked beneath a pillow. It was still unusually warm for the end of September, and Carol slept in a camisole and shorts, one leg covered with a sheet and part of her stomach covered by a blanket. Snoring. 

Harrie entered and shut the bedroom door with care not to make any sound. She took one step forward, then backtracked and turned the key to lock the door. Moving toward the desk, she eyed a short stack of letters and the handwritten timetable Carol had made, sitting atop her books, noting that she had somewhere to be at nine. Why was she still sleeping then? Harrie placed her own books besides Carol’s and walked to her side of the bed to take a seat. Carol never registered that someone else was there, she kept sleeping, kept snoring, kept wiggling her nose in the most amusing manner. Watching Carol sleep so peacefully made Harrie content, and very badly want to adjust her bedding and climb in her next to her for the rest of the morning. 

Nonetheless summer vacation was over, she reminded herself as she looked down at her. They weren’t going to have the same privacy they had had back in Greenwich or Boston, even if the door was locked or Carol’s roommate was away. There was always someone around, someone noticing who came in and who came out of the house. The beds always made too much sound; even when flipping over to the other shoulder, there was a rickety creaking with every single movement. 

Harrie carefully peeled away the blanket and brushed aside the sheet until there was just Carol, eyes still shut and sleeping. Harrie silently thanked Carol for wearing two separate garments to bed, making it far easier for her to slip down the short silk pants past her hips, past the angle of one knee and the straightened knee of the other leg, and finally past her feet onto the floor. Finally, Harrie could run the lightest of fingertips up the outside of Carol’s legs, all the way up to her hips and looping back down through blonde curls and her inner thighs. 

There might have been a faint whimper from Carol, but Harrie couldn’t be certain. Harrie braced her hands around either side of Carol’s hips and leaned forward, taking in her perfume before ultimately beginning steady swipes of her tongue.

Why couldn’t every start of term begun this way? Harrie pondered.

She kept her hands still, wanting to wake Carol with the curl of her tongue or lips rather than her fingers. Harrie alternated between soft licks and gentle sucking, casually and gradually getting her to wake up. Moments after changing her method, delicate fingers weaved into Harrie’s hair, letting her know that she was finally awake. 

“Good morning,” Carol whispered as she opened her eyes and looked down between her legs to see Harrie peering back up at her. Her fingers played with one of the curls, making Harrie smile in the process and change the pressure of her tongue against her. “Like that, just like that,” she managed to say without shouting for all to hear. Her hips began to follow the motions of Harrie’s tongue as she continued to get closer and closer.

Carol did everything she could to muffle the noises, covering her mouth with her arm so the sound of her erratic breathing couldn’t possibly be heard by the neighbors. Her hips stopped moving, her hand in Harrie’s hair stilled, her voice cracked and finally she moaned as she let go.

Harrie loved every second: how much she quivered at her touch, how she tasted, how Carol’s legs felt closing around her cheeks. She lifted her head to let her recover, kissing the inside of her thighs and rubbing her hands against her stomach. 

Carol brushed the loose strand of hair away from Harrie’s face, stroking the top of her head back and forth. “You are _so_ good at that.” She pulled Harrie on top of her, relishing the weight of her body in all the right places.

“Why thank you,” Harrie smugly offered, “and, might I add, you taste incredible this morning. Positively the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“Do I?” Carol tilted her head up and pressed her lips to Harrie’s. “I guess I do,” she laughed, “but to be fair, you have been feeding me all those fruit salads. Kind of feels like cheating.”

“Nah, you're perfect.” Harrie kissed her again and lifted herself slightly off her. “Say, you have class at nine. Oughtn't you get up?”

“Yes, at eight.”

“Carol, it's eight-thirty.”

“What?” Harrie instinctively moved off her, knowing that Carol would get into panic mode as soon as she realized the time. “That damn clock.” Carol peeled out of bed, pulling her camisole off and tossing it in the closet onto the floor next to some other dirty clothes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… “ 

Harrie sat back on the bed and watched her mill about the room without any clothes on. She followed how she bent down to pick up socks, endlessly muttering a string of obscenities to herself, moved her arms to fling open drawers and the closet, but ultimately not taking any clothes out. As soon as Harrie noticed her behavior, she called out to her to stop. “Carol? Carol, honey?” Carol turned to look at Harrie. She'd never called her “honey” before; it made her smile and soothed some of her sudden anxiousness. “Go wash up. I'll get you something to wear and put out your books.”

“Thank you,” she said with a flustered look as she threw on her robe and rushed out the room.

Once Carol left for the bathroom, Harrie opened the closet to find a blouse and skirt. Everything was neatly arranged, the exact placement and order these same clothes had been back in Greenwich and in Boston. It was all so familiar now, and she knew the combinations Carol liked to wear. She pulled out what she needed from the closet, found a cardigan in a drawer, and pulled out Carol’s beloved brown moccasins from under the bed. She wasn’t sure about the rest though, finally pulling open the drawer with her undergarments. Looking inside, she liked everything she could see on (and off) Carol, but if she had to choose, the pale green set was prettiest. Harrie grabbed them from the drawer and placed them on the bed beside the other items she had chosen. And while it was still fairly warm outside, Harrie didn’t know if she’d want socks or stockings. She put out both and found a garter belt, finally having everything Carol needed laid out and organized on the bed. 

Turning her attention to the desk, Harrie picked up the copy of Carol’s timetable to see what classes she had that morning. She made a face when she noticed that she had four classes in a row starting at nine, including French with Mademoiselle Fournier before lunch. She couldn’t wait to hear how that went. Lastly, she picked up Carol's fountain pen to check the ink supply, and found that she must have already filled it the night before. 

As she recapped the pen, Carol rushed back into the room. “Time?”

“Eight-forty-one.”

“Goddamn it.” Carol shrugged off her robe letting it fall and threw her towel over the side of the bed. Harrie remained seated at her desk, staying out of the way, watching Carol pull on the clothes she had laid out. “Thank you, Harriet, for getting all this together.”

“It was nothing.” She put her elbow on the desk then rested her head against her hand. “Can I be of any further help?”

“You could get my robe off the floor and hang up my towel.” Harrie picked up the robe from the ground and walked to the closet looking for a spare hanger. The towel she placed across the metal frame of the foot of the bed, extending it as much as possible so it would dry and not have an entirely musty odor when Carol picked it up to use again. “And could you please help me? With the straps and my necklace?” Harrie turned back toward her, and reached up to adjust the straps of her bra as Carol finished clasping her stockings to the garters. From the desk, she picked up Carol’s pearl necklace, something she hadn’t seen her wear in months, and placed it around her neck.

Harrie walked around to face her, looking down to see how she looked and if the shoulders were too loose. “That good?”

Carol pulled up her skirt and zipped up the side, then shifted her shoulders back and forth. “Perfect.” She kissed the tip of Harrie’s nose, then scurried to the mirror to brush her hair and apply lipstick.

Harrie looked back to the clock; there were still at least five minutes before she absolutely must leave and she figured Carol would also have to leave around the same time as well. She stood back and watched as Carol carefully brushed her hair, dismayed by the wet edges of her hairline that she knew would make the ends of her hair frizzy later on. There was no use trying to dry them when she still had to do other things.

“You don’t have to wear any lipstick if you don’t have time, Carol.”

“But I want to.”

“I’m not wearing any.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to spend an hour with Mademoiselle Fournier. I have a reputation now, _minette_.”

“That’s true,” she laughed, “but if I’m being perfectly frank, I chose to not wear any lipstick today because I knew I’d be coming over here to kiss you - “

“More than kiss… “

“That was an impromptu diversion.” Harrie grinned. “And I didn’t want it to get too smudged otherwise I’d be spending today’s classes worrying if I got lipstick on my teeth or somewhere near my nose.”

Carol frowned. “You make me sound like a sloppy kisser.”

“You’re definitely not, gorgeous. You’re the tenderest, gentlest kisser.” Harrie darted over to the bed and picked up Carol’s blouse and sweater. “Here, I gotta get going.”

“Wait! I’m - “

“Come on then, slowpoke.”

Carol quickly put on her lipstick, applied the faintest touch of perfume to her wrists and neck, and finally put on her blouse and cardigan. She grabbed her pen and books from the desk, immediately making her way to the door where Harrie stood. 

“Hang on!” Harrie stilled her, grasping each arm with her own hands and keeping her from moving any further away. “Your hair looks lovely, your lips look kissable, your collar - let’s fix that - “ Harrie lifted her hands to re-fold and flatten her collar. “There.” She raised Carol’s hand to inspect her nails. “Your nails: perfectly Jungle Red.”

“All good?”

“All good.” Harrie kissed her cheek, not wanting to disrupt the lipstick Carol had so carefully put on despite running late. “Let’s go.”

“Wait!” Carol called out before Harrie made it to the door. “Go wash your face. Your… ” With one of her nicely manicured fingers, she lifted Harrie’s chin and swiped a finger across it.

Harrie blushed as she held open the bedroom door and the two scurried out, with Harrie rushing off to the bathroom to quickly splash some water on her face. Running down the steps, they bolted out the front door as fast as they could.

“Good luck today.”

“Same to you.” Harrie stopped once they reached where their paths deviated. “Will I see you later?”

“I’m not sure. I have tennis this afternoon.”

“And I’m playing cricket with the other girls.”

Carol laughed. “I love how you don’t have to do afternoon sport anymore, yet you choose to.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s an abundance of cricket players out there. The school year is essentially the only opportunity I have.”

“I’ll come cheer you on then if I finish early enough.” Carol struggled with her books, reminding herself that she ought to get to class. “I have to go.”

“I love you,” Harrie faintly said.

With a wink and a smile, Carol was off, turning to look over her shoulder and whisper back, “Love you too.”

* * *

8:15 p.m.

As Carol sat in the common room, waiting for the water to boil for her tea, she wished it wasn’t so late so she could go to the diner for coffee and doughnuts with Harrie. Not that she really needed coffee so late at night, even if only so they could sit together and talk. Some other girls from her Old Masters class sat around, drinking tea and chatting with one another; and Carol was pretty sure she knew what they were talking about too. How could this possibly be happening so early into the semester? Could they at least wait more than four hours after the last class of the first day back?

“Come join us, Carol.”

“Yeah, Sylvia made cookies,” another piped in.

Inwardly groaning and outwardly smiling, Carol joined the other five girls sitting on the sofas by the fireplace, her cup of tea carefully poised on the saucer with a spoon and two sugars she was waiting to add. She debated making her excuses, especially after having four classes and enough reading and assignments to start up as soon as possible.

“Marie here was telling us about her boyfriend.”

Carol took a sip of tea, purposely scorching her tongue on the boiling liquid to keep herself from saying too much of anything. 

“Well, there’s not much to say about Rob, he’s such a gentleman and so sweet.”

Carol thought back to the appalling stories Harriet told her about some of her former roommates and fought cracking a smile. “I bet,” she muttered under her breath as she thought back to that one tale. She shouldn’t have even tried to say anything at all, but she couldn’t help herself and it was therapeutic for her, even mutter things like that under her breath to break the tension she felt over these types of situations. 

“He takes me to the movies, and comes over to the house for dinner with my family - oh, and if they don’t just adore him to pieces!”

Lost in her thoughts of the past summer, Carol mindlessly sat with the others, drinking her tea and pretending to listen to their stories. Sometimes, she nodded her head or would murmur “uh huh” when she heard more than one girl agree with something sometime head said. They didn't know she wasn't paying any attention.

“How about you, Carol? You have a beau?”

Before she could answer, Carol took another sip of tea, realizing that she had already nearly finished her cup in trying to keep a straight face through all of the conversation she had so happily been trying to avoid and pay no attention to. But these girls wanted to know. They wanted the details for whatever reason. True, they had willingly shared with her, despite her not caring about whatever they had to say; regardless, at that point, she realized that she had three viable choices in explanation.

One, she could be completely truthful and say that she didn’t have a boyfriend. It was the easiest and shortest possible reply, but it was an open-ended answer and one that would most likely lead to the other girls in the hall trying to fix her up with one of their snooty brothers or their boyfriend’s chum who just happened to be single, but wasn’t really single, only looking for a girl who would put out. She didn’t really want to find herself in the position of having to go on a date - or worse, a double date - with one of these girls and two strange boys. In the long run, it would be more difficult to get out of going on a date and having to see the other girl every single day to say no to than saying she didn’t have a boyfriend. So that choice was out.

Two, she could simply talk endlessly about Harrie without actually disclosing her sex to the curious girls in the room. Carol could talk about how they spent a good part of the summer together going to the beach, attending the World’s Fair, having picnics, spending time with each other’s families. She could talk about how they kissed and got pretty heated a few times; however, that had incredible potential to go terribly, terribly wrong in the long run. Carol had friends from Miss Porter’s there, friends who knew she lived with her grandparents and did occasionally drop by for a brief visit, although that luckily only happened while her immediate family had been visiting.

Three, and the worst of all in her opinion, but the one that would really get all of them off her back was to say that she was going with Harge. Well, she wasn’t, but they would have no way of knowing him and their situation, and they definitely wouldn’t pressure her to go on dates or try to fix her up with one of their friends if that were the case. The friends from Miss Porter’s already knew about him anyhow from her coming out party, so if word got around, it wouldn’t be a complete surprise to anyone. Harge did ask if he could visit her at school some time, so the day was bound to come where he would pop up, or hopefully have the decency to let her know in advance that he was visiting. And Harge was an older man, not some boy like the others these girls were dating; they wouldn’t question her in the slightest over someone like him. Sure, they would want details about their relationship, but no one would make up this kind of story.

“There’s a… man… I have been corresponding with for a few months now.”

“A man?” Marie asked.

“Yes, he’s twenty-six and works in real estate.”

“Twenty-six? Wow.”

“‘Corresponding’?”

“I met him at my coming out party in December and we saw each other a couple of times over the summer. He’s been writing to me as well.”

“What’s his name?”

“Hargess, er… Harge.”

“What the hell kind of name is Harge?”

Carol rolled her eyes and tried her best to keep in a chuckle. At least one of them had a sense of humor about it. It was a silly name afterall. “A family name, I guess. I don’t know, we haven’t gotten as far as discussing the significance of our names,” she dryly answered. 

“How far did you get?”

Ugh, did they really have to ask that sort of thing, Carol winced. Again, there was the truth of the matter and it wasn’t completely boring. She figured that some of the girls might consider her a prude for her response, but she really didn’t care. Not when she knew what it was like to be loved, and naked and entangled in the arms of another woman who had the prettiest dimples, the smoothest skin, the softest hair, and the most delicious - “He’s kissed me on the cheek. That’s it.” 

She had to keep herself from thinking too much about Harrie without blurting it all out for them to hear.

“That’s it?” Sylvia asked with a disappointed look on her face.

She looked around the room at the other girls, all attentively hanging onto every word she said. What was going on here? Why were they so terribly starved for details? “Yeah, that’s it.” Carol did her best to sound exasperated at being asked such a question, but she didn’t want to sound snobbish.

“Oh. Well, are you two engaged?”

Carol glanced down at her hand. She didn’t wear a ring on her finger, there was no tan line from having ever worn a ring, why would they ask such a question? Were they not in the least observant? “No, we’re not engaged. We’re not anything really, only he… writes to me. Oh, and he may come up here to see me during the year. I don’t know.”

“Well, he sounds like a keeper, Carol!”

All she could do was smile and politely excuse herself from the room, telling them she ought to get to her reading for the next day. Once the bedroom door was shut, she retreated to the corner of her bed, wedged against the side of the wall and the bookcase at the foot of the bed with her copy of _Pierre et Jean_ , shaking her head and fondly thinking of the curly-haired brunette studying in her room across campus.

* * *

Sunday, October 8th, 1939  
1:45 p.m.

Carol put one of the blankets on the ground, ungracefully plopped down, flinging off her hat which fell somewhere nearby in the grass. She lay down with her arms outstretched above her head and smiled up at the sky, enjoying the beautiful cloud-free sky and the leaves that were at their peak of change. Harrie looked around them, still holding the picnic basket in her hand, and quickly settled in to join her on the blanket. 

“Don’t let your hat blow away.”

“It’s fine.” She waved her hand without looking over at the hat caught up in the grass.

“You better go get it, or I’ll have to buy you one of those terrible hats like in _Ninotchka_.”

“We’re both far too tall for that hat.”

“Carol, we'd look positively ridiculous.”

“Yes, you might be too tall it, but I think you’d look elegant.”

Harrie shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not for me.” As she settled onto the blanket, Harrie curled herself into the crook of Carol’s arm, letting Carol wrap her arms around her. The moment she felt Carol’s arms around her, Harrie contentedly sighed. “This is more me.”

“Have you heard from Sid and James?”

“They’re in Toronto now with my uncle, although I think they’ll be up there a while… with the car, “ Harrie replied. “They send their love. James greatly misses dancing with you because Sid will never stop stepping on his toes.”

They spent the next half-hour talking about their week, how classes had been going, the assignments that required completion by Thanksgiving, and what was happening with Harrie’s family. There were no recent updates from her father, but he knew she would be back to school by then, so all she could do was patiently wait for any kind of an answer.

After a long pause, Carol asked about Harrie’s graduate school applications and if she needed any help with those.

“You don’t have to read about what I intend to do with atoms, polymers and quantum theory.”

“I still don’t know what any of that means,” Carol lamented. “You didn’t specify, but where are you applying to do your Master’s?” 

Harrie lifted herself up to look into Carol’s eyes as she spoke. “Berkeley. They have one of the best chemistry programs and a top-notch research facility there.”

“California?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Carol took an extra moment to examine the plaid pattern of the blanket they lay on and play with the fringe of the wool trim. Her heart sunk a little, she couldn’t deny that. California was thousands of miles away, just as far away as her father was. What would happen if they only saw each other once or twice a year? 

“Are you upset? You seem upset.”

“No, no. You - you must to do what’s best for you and all.”

Carol didn’t realize it until that moment, but the first couple weeks back at school had been difficult for her. She had become so accustomed to waking up next to Harrie, starting the day with a kiss, having breakfast together in bed, spending the evenings listening to the radio, doing the crossword puzzle, dancing in the drawing room whenever the moment arose, even simple things like cleaning the house, doing laundry or making dinner together. She missed all of that. There was always studying and going to the movies, but that wasn’t the same as the rapport of them actually living together like they had.

“I’ve been planning on going there since, well… since I started college and heard about their program. Lately though, with the war, California seems really far away from everything and everyone though.”

Maybe the daily separation now, during the academic year, would be good for her, for both of them, particularly if by this time next year, they might actually find themselves being apart for a truly long period of time.

“You don’t have to explain, Harriet. I understand.”

“I don’t want you to think, I don’t… “ Harrie sat up and pulled her legs beneath her skirt to stay warm, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Why do you think I’ve been asking what you want to do after college?” she gingerly asked.

“Oh, I have thought about it. Actually, I've been seriously thinking about it the past few weeks.”

“My art historian,” Harrie cooed. Carol reached up to swipe a strand of hair from Harrie’s eyes, warmly looking at her. “You know, Stanford has an excellent art history department - you could try there.”

Carol stroked her cheek, letting her thumb graze along her jawbone down to her chin. “Where's that?”

“South of San Francisco,” Harrie replied. She could see Carol's mind beginning to think it all through. “There are trains, streetcars, and ferries all over, so it’d be no problem getting around. I kind of like the idea of traveling places by boat.”

Harrie laid back down on the blanket, burrowing against Carol’s side, and stretched out her legs to kick off her shoes as she got comfortable. “We could get one of those neglected Edwardian homes in San Francisco and fix it up. I trust you with all the decorating, picking out the furniture, making it a home - you have really good taste in things like that - and I can start painting the walls and getting it overall ready over the next couple years until you join me. You can come over next summer and see how it’s coming along even. We can make that home our ‘isle of joy.’”

Carol also removed her shoes and rolled herself on top of Harrie, straddling her hips and placing her hands on her shoulders. “I’ll have to think about it.” 

“Hmm, I like when you’re on top of me like this.”

“I know you do.” Carol slyly grinned. Harrie grasped Carol’s hand and placed it by the hem of her skirt. She slipped her hand upward and let out a feigned cry of disapproval. “Why, Miss Lovell!”

“Hmm?”

“You’re full of surprises today.”

“I don't know to which surprise you're referring, my dear. Just wrap that blanket around us. I’m chilly.” Carol picked up the corner and draped it over her shoulders, cocooning them with in a pleasant warmth. 

“No wonder you're cold. Better now?” she asked as she roamed her fingers along the inside of Harrie’s upper thighs, up and down, dawdling as she slid along wet, sticky skin to where she needed her most.

“Much better.”

* * *

“I hate that this is all we have right now,” sighed Harrie as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Sorry I fell asleep. Guess I got too relaxed.”

Carol nuzzled beneath Harrie’s ear and kissed up and down the side of her neck. “At least we got to wake up together.”

“How many weekends away are you allowed again? I can’t remember that long ago.”

“I get four.”

“Only four?” Harrie said with a grimace. “Perhaps in a couple weeks we can go to Worcester or Boston for the weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll make the arrangements then,” Harrie winked. 

Carol started to roll herself off, then stopped herself. ”Wait a minute. A couple weeks? No, I’ll make those arrangements. I won’t have my sweetie plan her own birthday weekend. Certainly not your twenty-first.”

Harrie tightly gripped onto Carol’s hips to keep her still and leaned up to kiss her. When Carol raised her head to take a breath, Harrie playfully rolled the two of them over so Carol was beneath her, both still all wrapped up together in the blanket. She let out a shriek as soon as she felt herself fall over onto her back and as soon as she was down, Harrie again pressed her lips to hers. “Ah, so you remembered?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP3GmdopSiM) for _Ninotchka_ (1939) dir. Ernst Lubitsch


	11. Babes in Arms

Saturday, October 28th, 1939  
11:20 p.m.

Harrie sat still in her seat, glaring as the film’s final card appeared on screen. She turned to Carol and gripped her knee tightly. “I’ll meet you outside, alright? I just ought to get some air.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No, I’m fine. I just… “ Harrie let go of her knee and patted it a couple times before standing up. “Watch some of the newsreels, come outside when you’re done. You can tell me all about it, okay?”

“Alright. I’ll be out in a few.”

As she grabbed her purse and walked away, Harrie could feel Carol’s eyes following her out of the auditorium, but she never turned back to look and straight away headed for the double doors into the lobby. She walked through the crowd, rushing to get outside into the fresh autumn air. There was already another group of people gathering outside, all waiting for the late showing of _Babes in Arms_. 

Harrie sighed as she moved past them, finding herself a nicely lit spot beneath the marquee away from others. Once she had her place, she put on her hat and took a deep breath, standing with her eyes shut and holding her breath to calm herself down. She didn't want to ruin the evening, especially since Carol had gone through so much trouble to make arrangements for the entire weekend. 

While deeply breathing in and out, she remembered she had Carol's cigarette case and lighter in her purse. Carol had asked her to keep it on her rather than carry it herself so she couldn't (and wouldn't) smoke whenever she wanted to. One cigarette wouldn't hurt. And only one wouldn't make her smell that foul. She could take a bath back at the hotel. Maybe even Carol would join her, she cheerfully thought. Harrie opened her purse and retrieved the silver case and lighter. Finding only two cigarettes remaining, she took one, placed it between her lips, and shakily lit it.

Harrie had never smoked a cigarette before, despite everyone around her constantly lighting up whenever they seemed to have a spare moment. Her brother and James both smoked. Constantly. In the weeks the four of them were in Boston, the boys had managed to make the first and second floors of the townhouse completely smell of smoke. She had worked so hard to keep the old house clean and not smelling like all kinds of smoke, only to have it be utterly smelly after a matter of days. Carol had gotten much better since the summer, only smoking one or two every couple of days; usually when she felt anxious about something when Harrie wasn't available to talk to. At least Harrie had been able to coax her to go outside by saying that the smoke damaged the oil paintings on the walls, something Carol fervently respected and for which no further explanation was necessary.

After a couple puffs, she got the hang of it. Inhale. Exhale. Clear throat. Harrie had watched Carol do it enough times, any excuse really to stare at her mouth and how she held one between her red lips, and she was an excellent teacher despite having never provided her actual instruction. She still coughed though, that wasn't changing any. Harrie rubbed her eye with her thumb, then flicked the ash from the end onto the pavement below. For a moment, she felt silly for telling Carol that she needed some fresh air when all she did was stand outside by herself and smoke.

Just as she finished the cigarette and threw the end to the ground, Carol appeared. Pleasantly smiling and with a joyous spring in her step, she approached Harrie who rested against the wall, and happily sang with slightly modified lyrics, “‘Oh, I'm just wild about Harrie, and she’s just wild about me… '"

“Don't,” Harrie said before she could continue.

“You should be so lucky. It's an aptly named song that perfectly expresses my sentiments.”

“I said don't,” Harrie scowled.

“Oh, no one will know!” Carol winked and nudged her shoulder. “No one could ever possibly guess.”

“That's not it.”

“What then?”

Did no one else see it? Or have a problem with it? Were they all not just present at the same movie? How could an entire audience be so obtuse? 

“That ending, with the big show the kids put on. It didn’t bother you in the slightest?”

“What about it?” she shrugged. “I thought the spoof of Mr and Mrs Roosevelt was funny.”

“Not that. The minstrel show, Carol. The kids with all their so-called talent, put on a minstrel show and sing about wanting to be ‘minstrel men.’”

“Yeah, their parents are vaudeville actors. They’re going with what they know best. Isn’t that what they used to do in those old traveling shows anyway?”

“Emphasis on the ‘used to’ part, yes!” Harrie exasperatedly said. “And all of them are wondering where their parents’ livelihood has gone? Is it not obvious that everything they’ve learnt and think of as acceptable is completely offensive nowadays?”

“Offensive? What are you talking about?” 

Harrie raised her arms in the air. “It’s highly insensitive! A bunch of white youths painting their faces to look like Negroes in order to sing and dance like in the ‘good ole days’ for the amusement of a white audience. Both the audience within the movie and the one sitting back there in the theater.” Carol blankly stared at her. “You have no problem with that?”

Carol soon looked disgusted as Harrie’s words sunk in and avoided all eye contact with her, ashamed that she hadn’t realized it herself. “When you put it that way… “ Carol drew her jacket a little tighter around her to keep out the draft and moved herself closer so she could stand with her arm pressed against Harrie’s. Harrie had noticed that whenever Carol wanted to be close to her, or particularly when she wanted to hold her hand but they were out in public, she would waltz right up to her, stand as closely as possible, and press her arm or move her hip against Harrie to make the most basic contact. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that until you pointed it out.” Carol swatted her arm, “Hey, at least the thunderstorm swept in to save the day and put an end to it.”

“Even the heavens knew it was too distasteful.” Harrie put her hands into her coat pockets, brushing against Carol's hand that rested by her side before it was tucked in the pocket to stay warm. She took a deep breath and and slowly began to move away from Carol. “Let’s start heading back to the hotel, alright?”

As they slowly began to walk back, neither of them said a word for a good couple of minutes, each one lost in her thoughts. Harrie kicked at the leaves that had fallen to the ground, occasionally stepping on them and creating a loud crunching sound that echoed through the small city park. Carol's heels made a distinct clicking sound as she moved along the sidewalk, keeping up with Harrie’s leisurely pace. 

They hadn’t walked far when they came to a somewhat neglected bench in the middle of the park. Harrie stopped in front of it, then sat down, tapping the spot next to her for Carol to sit as well. “Full moon tonight,” Carol noted. “Almost don’t even need the street lamps.” Harrie looked up and took a deep breath; turning to look at Carol, she paused a moment and watched as she flicked away a strand of hair in her face, not detecting Harrie observing her so closely. Carol was smiling, also looking up at the moon and clearly lost in her thoughts. Somehow, after a few minutes, she sensed Harrie’s eyes on her and turned to her left. “What?”

“Nothing.” 

“What?” she asked once more with a laugh in her voice.

“It’s nothing.” Carol opened her mouth to speak again, but Harrie stopped her and angled herself to face her, planting her elbow firmly on the back of the bench. “It’s not nothing, just… in this light, with that expression on your face, all I want to do is kiss you, right here, and forget anything terrible is happening outside of this little corner of the world.”

“Well, if that clock over there is anywhere near accurate, it’s almost midnight.” Carol pointed out. “Which means it’s almost your birthday and I can kiss you.”

“You’re getting New Year’s and birthday traditions mixed up.”

“Am I?” 

With a shift of her hips, Carol moved herself closer to Harrie on the bench and leaned forward.

“We shouldn’t though.”

Carol looked around and saw only people standing outside the movie theater, all facing the ticket window and the illuminated marquee. “Not even one quick kiss? I like being out here with you. Next to you. Here, in the middle of the night, in the open, in the moonlight, as you put it.” 

“The hotel is right there. You can do more than kiss me if you wait a few minutes.” Harrie said, pointing to the nearby building, but then quickly stopped and sat up a little straighter on the bench. “I mean, I know you’ve heard the song before, but do you know what’s behind it?” Carol shook her head and moved to mimic the way Harrie sat with her arm over the side of the bench. “It’s about two people in love, and it just so happens that those two people so passionately in love with one another are Negroes. Some thought no one would want to hear a song where two Negroes sing romantically to one another, let alone see them on stage, together, singing that song, but people liked it because the overall theme is universal. I guess, I hear it and it makes me optimistic about progress. However it's also a reminder of how slow progress can be to affect those who need it the most.

“You’ve lived a very sheltered life thus far. I know you’ve been down to Virginia to visit your sister and her family, so you must have seen the disparity between the treatment of Negroes and whites. Whether you acknowledge it or not, it’s also up here too. Just go to the South End or the Lower East Side: there's still poverty, segregation, and discrimination. I won't even start on the shortcomings of British policies abroad. I've lived a privileged and sheltered life too, especially since my mother died. I don't like it, but I try to understand why things are the way they are and how we can strive to make this a better world.”

Carol brushed her finger across Harrie’s knuckle, sweetly admiring the way her hat in the moonlight cast shadows against her skin. “That's the scientist in you, Harriet. Always looking for ways to make things better. Including me.”

Harrie couldn’t be upset with her for not having responded to what she happened to immediately notice, not when she thought back with a smile to her family’s lineage of being champions of socially progressive movements, or simply “troublemakers” as her English grandmother liked to call them. At that moment, she realized she had never told Carol much about her mother’s side of the family. Maybe if she knew, she might understand, Harrie thought.

“Did I ever tell you about my mother’s side of the family?” Carol replied no, and reached over for Harrie’s purse to pull out her cigarette case and lighter. “I should probably have mentioned that at least one member of my mother’s side may have been guilty of dumping a key ingredient of a delicious beverage into a body of water just 40 miles from here.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Carol smiled.

“My great-great-grandparents were involved in the abolitionist movement and hid runaways in the crawl space on the fourth floor, right above my bedroom.”

“You’ll have to try harder.” 

As Carol opened the case, she frowned upon noticing only one cigarette remaining. “I may have smoked one while I was waiting.” She shrugged and lit the last cigarette. “My grandmother was a suffragette. Arrested five times.”

“If you’re trying to shock me, you’re failing miserably,” muttered Carol with the cigarette dangling from her lips.

“And my mother was a suffragette, later involved with the Birth Control League of Massachusetts. Dad’s always been hazy on the details, but Sid thinks she got jailed at least twice for distributing ‘obscene’ pamphlets and diaphragms. He found a press clipping about it in my mother’s old desk which I think she meant to have framed.”

Once Carol took a drag from her cigarette, she scanned Harrie up and down. “What about you? Have you been arrested?”

Harrie held out her hand, indicating she wanted a drag on the cigarette. “Not yet. I still have plenty of time to pick a noble cause though. But, you know, I particularly liked that ‘Good Morning’ song at the beginning; it was so sweet and happy. However, the whole ending just really left a bad taste in my mouth. Much like this cigarette.” Harrie coughed repeatedly, still unaccustomed to inhaling properly, then shook her head. “Yeah, this isn't for me.” 

Before Harrie stopped coughing, Carol took the cigarette from her hand and finished it. “Harriet, let's get something to drink or eat back at the hotel and you’ll be fine.” Carol looked over at the theater again, the late-night crowd that was once outside had now moved indoors and the street quiet again. They were pleasantly alone together in the park, sitting together on the bench and enjoying the cool autumn air.

“I meant to ask, you know, to see if the song is really accurate: do the ‘heavenly blisses’ of my kisses really fill you with ecstasy?”

“Repeatedly,” Carol smugly answered. “Happy birthday,” she said the moment before leaning in to plant a brief kiss on Harrie’s lips, then got up to start walking quickly toward the hotel entrance, looking over her shoulder at a very stunned Harrie who rose from the bench smiling and walking towards her.

* * *

Sunday, October 29th, 1939  
5:52 a.m.

Carol pulled on the bathroom light cord above the sink and scurried back to the comfort of the bed and the coziness of Harrie's arms. Before crawling back into bed, she removed whatever clothes she had on, over the span of about a month forgetting how warm she could become sharing a bed with another person.

“What time is it?” Harrie asked as Carol pulled back the covers.

“Almost six.”

Harrie dropped her head back to the pillow and tugged the blankets up once Carol had rejoined her. Her mouth was dry and her head aching slightly from the bottle of Champagne they shared when they got back to their room, too comfortable and too happy all curled up in bed with Carol to care. “‘Sunbeams will soon smile through.’” Harrie couldn't carry a tune for the life of her, but for Carol, her voice, either speaking or singing, was the sweetest sound first thing in the morning and Carol smiled as she listened to her. It was one of the things she missed most about sleeping apart from her every night. Harrie kissed the tip of her nose and nuzzled her head further into the pillow. “‘Good morning, my darlin’, to you.’” 

Before she got completely comfortable in the bed, Carol poised a finger at Harrie’s lips to silence her. “Shhh… happy birthday, Harriet,” she whispered, then swung a leg over hers, inviting her as close as possible with the pull of the heel of her foot. Covered with blankets and snuggled around one another, they fell back into a deep sleep until the late morning.

10:50 a.m.

“Help,” Harrie whined as she looked up from her folded-over page of the _Telegram_. “French river in the Gâtinais, five letters.” 

Carol stopped reading the morning paper to glare at her. “What is it with you and European rivers?”

“I can’t say any of them, I can’t remember them, I can’t spell them. They’re hard.”

Unsure if it was Harrie doing the crossword, her whining, or her pronunciation (or lack thereof) of the letter r, laughter poured from Carol who could only shake her head and wave her arm in the air. “Says the same woman who has memorized a chart of abbreviations and atomic numbers.”

Harrie imitated her earlier gesture and retorted, “Says the woman who memorizes the date, location, and medium of hundreds of artworks.”

Carol squinted at her and shook her head. “Loing.”

“Could you please spell it? I’m sure there are letters in there that aren’t pronounced.”

“What? Like the letter r in the middle of a word, like ‘hard’ or ‘park’? Actually, I don’t even know where to start with a word like ‘park.’”

“What the hell, Carol? Those both have the letter r in there? You’ve said nothing all this time!” Harrie jokingly exclaimed. 

“L-O-I-N-G.” Carol said and watched as Harrie rapidly scribbled down the word once she started spelling it aloud. As soon as she finished one clue, she moved onto the next and happily tapped her foot back and forth against the blankets she had kicked to the bottom of the bed earlier. 

“That was a good idea you had about booking for two nights. No one has been around to harass us about vacating. Now I truly appreciate why there are 'Do Not Disturb’ signs for the doors.” 

Carol blushed when she thought back to the time they spent together at the hotel, cuddled up in bed, no one bothering them, no one to overhear them. It was almost like summer had been, she thought, except Harrie was beginning to feel the pressure of her final year. She was more on edge and far more stressed than Carol had ever seen her, and they were only a month in. Seeing as this trip had been a success, maybe they should to do that at least once a month; simply get away from school, assignments, problems, and nosy classmates. “Do you have a lot to do when we get back?”

Reaching over to the chair by the edge of her side of the bed, Harrie pulled a list from her jacket pocket and handed it to her. As Carol looked over the sheet of paper Harrie finished a glass of water, watching Carol's disapproving facial expressions over the rim of the glass. “Are you joking?”

“I wish.”

“I can type your proposal if you handwrite it and pass me the pages,” Carol offered. “I'm a good typist.”

“I dunno,” Harrie said with a heavy sigh and a smirk. “Aren't your fingers awfully… fatigued?”

“You are cheeky today,” Carol said and swatted her shoulder. “If anything, they are in peak condition, mind you. Besides, since I don’t know any of those chemical terms, I’d have to take extra time and attention to make sure the spellings are correct.”

“Alright, you can be my stenog when we get back and show off those legs of yours.”

“I’ll wear my frumpiest dress so you don’t get any ideas.”

Harrie tilted her head, looking up from her crossword one more time, angling herself to see the clock on the nightstand. “I’m starving. Aren’t you hungry? Breakfast stops in about two minutes.”

“What would you like? Might I remind you, you had Champagne, so I know you ought to have something of substance in your belly.” Carol picked up the leather-bound menu from her nightstand and passed it to Harrie who finally put down the newspaper. She did a quick glance and handed it back. 

“Two glasses of cider, bacon, sausage, three eggs over easy, some corned beef hash, and waffles with maple syrup. I did say I was hungry.”

Carol vaguely gawked, shaking her head and muttering a string of complaints under her breath. “I think your eyes are bigger than your stomach. I’ll order.” Carol remarked as she walked toward the telephone and picked it up the receiver. “I'll have a pot of coffee and nibble whatever you don't eat.” As she placed the order trying to remember everything Harrie had listed, she watched as Harrie finished her crossword, concentrating on finishing all the questions. “It'll be twenty-five minutes. Perhaps I should just get dressed and head to the drugstore around the corner to pick up that bicarb you’re going to need.” 

“I will not,” Harrie insisted and instead patted the space on the bed next to her where Carol had just been. She sat down, leaning against the headboard and reviewing Harrie's completed crossword puzzle. “Twenty-five minutes, eh?” Harrie said as she scooted closer to Carol. “Can I pitch some woo here?”

“No,” Carol adamantly said, holding out her hand to keep her at least a six inches away. “That’s not nearly enough time for me to do everything I’d like with you and I don't want to be just getting started only to have to get the door and both of us be scrambling around searching for our clothes, hair all messed up, lips all puffy, marks on my neck from you biting me, all the while the room positively emits the scent of sex and there’s no question to anyone what - “ 

All Harrie wanted to do was swing her leg over Carol’s lap and settle herself against her to keep her from talking. She took Carol's face in both hands and threaded her fingers through her sides of her hair. “You’re rambling and it’s very cute,” she said with a grin before kissing her. “But all I want is to sit right here in your lap and spend the next twenty minutes lazily kissing those beautiful lips of yours, being held by you.”

Carol simply smiled back and returned the kiss without saying anything more. As she got more relaxed in Carol’s lap and shifted from side to side, Harrie’s messy brown curls fell back into her face and Carol had to move them out of the way again to tuck behind her ears. “Harriet, sweetheart, what are we going to do about your hair?”

Harrie squinted at her and pressed her lips to the side of her neck. “Absolutely nothing. And just for that… your lips very well may get red from kisses because I love my hair as it is.” Carol smirked, then placed her hands beneath Harrie's camisole to caress her stomach and inch slowly upwards toward her breasts. “And your hands may get carried away because I know... how much you like my… “ Harrie stammered as Carol's fingers toyed with her nipples, teasing until they were swollen and longing for her mouth. Once Carol let go of her lips to focus on removing her camisole, Harrie was able to actually catch her breath. “Okay, okay… you can take my top off, but nothing else. I still want to kiss you some more, you know.” 

“Or… “

“Or?”

Carol tossed Harrie's top within an arm's reach of them and turned her attention back to the woman in her lap, slowly sliding her hands back to where they had been. “Or… I could give you your present.”

“This isn't it? Because I’m pretty happy with this right here.”

“No.”

“You sure?” Harrie asked. “Please keep doing that with your hand.”

“Then you'd already have received your present today.”

“If you look at it that way, I've received three presents so far.” Carol lowered her hand to Harrie's bottom and smacked it. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

“You best write thank you cards when we get back.”

“Seriously though, I have something for you.” Carol didn’t move, only observed Harrie’s expressions as her eyes followed her. “In the drawer.” 

When Harrie let go, Carol put her hands on her hips to keep her from tumbling off her lap as she moved around. Inside the drawer of the nightstand, Harrie discovered a small black velvet box. For a split-second, she felt nervous when she saw the packaging; she knew only a few things could possibly come in a container so small, but she also rationalized there was no way it would be that kind of gift. 

Carol wouldn't do that, would she? It had only been six months. 

Women like them didn’t do that, did they?

“It's not _that_ , Harriet,” Carol promised.

With her feelings at ease, Harrie opened the box to find a pair of earrings. Pearl earrings with a silver mounting.

“Oh, Carol, they're beautiful. Thank you.”

“I thought they would look very becoming on you. I got them before I came up to Boston.” Harrie tilted her head and brushed her hair behind her ear. She took one earring from the box and removed the backing before putting it in. Before she could put in the other, she angled her head to show off to Carol how the earring looked. 

“So?”

Carol reached her hand up, running her fingers along Harrie’s jawbone. “Lovely.” When she reached her ear, Carol barely touched her earlobe which slightly sagged from the weight of the earring, letting her finger flick it back and forth. With her hand still on Harrie's face, she pulled her forward to kiss her, then let her hand wander along her shoulder on down. “My girl with a pearl earring.”

* * *

_Dear Carol,_  
_I had a great time at dinner with you last week-end. Sorry to have missed you to-day. Just happened to be passing through this part of Mass. on my way back home and thought I’d drop in and see how your doing. I’ll write you later!_  
_All the best,_  
_Harge_

Carol crumpled up the note she had found in her letter box and tossed it in the bin as soon as she opened her bedroom door.

“For fuck’s sake, Harge, it’s 'you’re’ not ‘your,’” she muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCcU3A7gYCk) for _Babes in Arms_ (1939) dir. Busby Berkeley


	12. Gone With the Wind

Monday, December 18th, 1939  
7:45 a.m.

“What do you think? Should I?” All Jack did was smile and reach for his toes. Carol stared at Jack for a good two minutes, and Jack stared back at her just as intently until he started giggling. “Why am I discussing this with you?” She knew it was completely accidental, Jack had no idea what she was talking about yet turned to look at the telephone table and peered at it without moving. “A very clear argument. You’re very persuasive for a thirteen-month-old.” Carol tickled his stomach, making him giggle again. He laughed and smiled, no doubt in anyone’s mind that his Aunt Carol was his favorite member of the family. “I sense law school in your future with those skills.”

Carol left Jack on the floor and stood to go to the telephone. She knew that Harrie’s family was supposed to be in Boston that Christmas for their first holiday together in years. However in light of events, all that changed. Even though Carol had offered to have her come stay in Connecticut for the entire break, she declined coming down there at all, saying she just wanted to go to the movies, sleep, and catch up on reading, presumably what she need for exams coming up at the end of January. Perhaps she had just grown so accustomed to having Christmas to herself that Harrie didn’t how else to respond. They did manage to agree that Carol would come up to Boston a few days before New Year’s to spend some time together before returning to school. 

Would it be too much though? She didn’t want to be too clingy, but the thought of Harrie by herself when she really wasn't that far away to begin with...

Carol wouldn’t want to be by herself for the holidays if she had no family. Without further hesitation, she picked up the receiver and dialed the operator to place the call. A minute later, the woman on the other end came back saying no one was answering.

“Could you please keep trying? I know she’s there.”

More waiting, until there was some commotion. Finally, Carol heard the phone pick up and the operator begin to speak, “Harriet Lovell, please. Greenwich, Connecticut calling.” About thirty seconds later, Carol was pleased to hear a familiar, albeit groggy, voice on the other end, then the operator spoke one final time, “Go ahead, please.”

“This is Miss Harriet Lovell of the Sleepy Lovells.”

“Oh, is it now? This is Miss Carol Ross of the Wide Awake Rosses,” she joked. “Please tell me you’re good with children. Small ones.” Carol held the receiver away from her as Harrie’s laughter poured into her ear. “It’s not funny.” She heard a loud yawn and the all-too-familiar creaking of her four-poster bed. “Can you make it?”

“I - I went to sleep at six, but I can be on the next train toward New York in about an hour probably.”

“Would you?” Before Harrie could reply, Carol continued, “Why on earth did you go to bed so late?”

“I had to finish reading _Gone With the Wind_ so I can see it next week. It put me in a mood,” Harrie answered, still sounding sleepy. “Fiddle-dee-dee, not that kind of mood. And quit your smiling, I can hear it over the phone. I’ll be there this afternoon.”

“See you soon, _minette_ ,” Carol whispered. The last sound she heard before hanging up was Harrie jokingly meowing. She’d never let that one down.

* * *

“What’s knittin’, kitten?” Carol loudly asked as the train pulled away.

“You’re a lost cause, you know that?” Harrie said as she walked down the train platform toward Carol and Jack. No one else disembarked at Riverside, especially not in the middle of the afternoon, and she had just managed to make it off the packed train in time with her bags.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to small children.”

“At that age, they're usually referred to as babies,” Harrie remarked, now standing beside Carol and Jack. She leaned in, kissing Carol on the cheek, then kissing Jack on the forehead before returning to Carol to kiss her cheek for a second time. “You do realize I know next to nothing about children, child rearing, and development.”

“You know a lot more about a wider array of topics than anyone I know.”

“Small humans aren’t one of those topics.” Harrie looked at the little boy in Carol’s arms, all bundled up in a wool coat and tiny cap with ear flaps tied around his chin. “Why are you alone with Jack in the first place?”

Carol balanced him on her hip as Harrie placed her bags at her feet. “My sister, my brother-in-law, the two older boys plus my grandmother went into the city and they are staying for the next two nights. Me, being the nice, thoughtful aunt that I am, or a total chump, offered to stay here with Jack because he hasn’t been well. Not to mention, I really didn’t want to stay in the city with them and share a room with my grandmother. My grandfather’s home with me, but… no one in the family can seem to remember if he’s good with small children and no one really wanted to ask him directly.”

“So you’ve been alone with him for… “

“Seven hours”

“You phoned at eight this morning.” Harrie looked at her watch. “It’s now shortly after two. You lasted one hour.”

Carol paused, then averted her eyes towards her car parked nearby, indicating with her head they should start walking over there. “I may have also told them that you would be here anyways to help out and that’s why I could be left with him. I think it’s more I don’t trust myself.”

“Oh, Carol, yes, you do. You’ve been around those three boys since each of them was born. You know just as well as your sister how to take care of them.” Carol looked away again when she understood that Harrie had seen right through what she had done. She didn’t seem upset; Carol knew her reaction now when Harrie was agitated by something, and in this case she was just amused. “You could have just been straight with me.”

Jack gave a loud cry and Harrie reached over to diligently pat his back while Carol held him. He was quiet again and contentedly rested against Carol's shoulder. “I didn’t want you to spend Christmas by yourself.” Harrie opened her mouth, but Carol ignored her and raised her voice, despite Jack wiggling around at the noises. “You've spent the past - what? Five? Six? - Christmases alone, in that goddamn house, all shuttered up, all too eager to get back to whatever school you’re at at the time.” Harrie tried to hide her smile, loving whenever Carol got temperamental and passionate about what she was discussing. 

“Maybe I wasn’t eager to come down here for Christmas because I didn’t want to get used to the idea of spending a holiday with someone I care about when I know I will have at least two, if not more, alone, ahead of me.”

“I love you, so to hell with your self-preservation, and to hell with everything if I can't wake up in bed on Christmas morning with your legs all entwined with mine. It might not actually be possible because it’s not as though we have the whole place to ourselves, but that's all I want when I know next year - next year you'll be there and I'll… . Without you.”

Harrie ignored her comment, reaching down for her bags and beginning to walk toward the car. “Let's drop it for now and go home, okay?” Carol followed next to her, still balancing Jack who very happily had his arms wrapped around her neck. “He's a snuggly little thing, isn't he? Like a koala,” Harrie noted, pointing with a raised suitcase to his grey jacket and small black hat with ear flaps. 

“Yeah, I don't think his mother or father hold him a lot. His brothers were never like this. He's been practically attached at the hip since he got here.” 

Carol recalled how when they arrived, Jack gravitated towards her, always wanting to sit in her lap or put his arms around her, despite having had a fever and being cranky. He was still very good, and Carol didn't mind looking after him and keeping him away from his two rowdy older brothers. Of course, his mother and father were exhausted from the trip up, exhausted from dealing with three children, and with Jack being unwell, couldn’t muster the strength to mind him, practically dumping him in Carol’s lap. “Here,” Elaine had barked not ten minutes after they arrived, “it’ll be good practice for you when you marry that real estate fellow and have a few of your own.” Biting her tongue and not wanting to get into it with her sister first thing, Carol said nothing, especially when she saw how excited Jack was to see her and instantly put his arms around her once in Carol’s lap. “Try not to let him cling to you all the time. I don’t know why he keeps doing that.” For that comment alone, Carol made sure whenever Jack wanted to be held, she held him. Besides, they were perfectly able to muster the energy to go into the city though, Carol thought. 

“The car keys are in my jacket pocket and the trunk is already unlocked if you’d like to drive us home.”

Harrie placed her bags in the trunk, then walked over to the passenger’s side door where Carol stood holding Jack. “He must think you’re his own personal teddy bear. I do think I'm jealous of him.” She reached into Carol's pocket to pull out the keys to drive them home, giving her another kiss on the cheek before opening the car door for them.

* * *

Before arriving home, they stopped at the butcher’s to pick up a pot roast for that evening. One benefit to having Harrie there for the couple of nights while the others were away was having someone in the house who could actually cook a thing or two. Not that Harrie minded at all, especially when she had Carol there to wash, peel, cut, and prep things for her in that charmingly neat manner of hers. The one thing about cooking Harrie didn’t know was what Jack could eat. Carol pointed to the small bowl next to her of parsnips and potatoes cut even smaller than those that would go into its own corner of the the roast pan.

As Carol alternated between taking bites of her own dinner and feeding Jack, she listened to her grandfather and Harrie joke with each other and talk about everything from her grandfather's love of reading to Harrie's chemical lab in her basement. They talked about travel, baseball, the places they'd seen abroad, the different foods they had eaten while in Brittany or the Highlands. Carol loved the way the two of them got along, passionate and jovial in their talk, such a contrast to how he had been during the summer when Harge dropped by for dinner, hardly muttering a word to him while her grandmother gushed over his presence, and totally different from how he was with Elaine and her husband as well. She watched the way the two of them spoke to one another, seeing both of them so happy and engaged. Carol was particularly pleased with Harrie, whom she could hardly take her eyes off, as she talked or simply sat listening to what her grandfather said. For a second time that day, Carol affirmed that she had done the right thing in having her spend the holidays with them, even if she did get her to come down from Boston in the most roundabout way.

Relaxing in the sitting room after dinner, Harrie put on the radio, Carol sat on the floor with Jack flipping through a book and softly talking, and her grandfather scanned the paper, occasionally reading aloud the headlines. Harrie silently watched to Carol and Jack together on the floor, winking at the two of them when Carol briefly looked up once to catch her eye. 

“What are you two doing?”

“I'm showing him the color plates from one of my art books with a Christmas theme. I can't see my sister packed any books for him.” Harrie craned her neck to see what artwork they were looking at. Jack briefly fussed and pointed at the picture, as though he was waiting for Carol to continue with her discussion. “So impatient!” she teased and pulled him tighter to her. She pointed to each animal in the picture and made a sound to accompany each one. “This is the _Adoration of the Shepherds_ by Ghirlandaio. See? There's a donkey who looks like it's smiling, and a cow, and a little fluffy lamb.”

“Donkeys don't smile,” Harrie laughed.

Both Carol and Jack raised their heads at the sound of her laughter. “This one painted in 1485 does.”

Harrie went over to sit behind them on the sofa, overlooking her shoulder down to the book. Harrie peered over, her eyes drawn to where Carol pointed at a furry, sweet-looking, smiling donkey. “Well, I'll be… “

Although she didn't turn to look at Harrie above her, Carol brushed her hand against the side of Harrie's leg that dangled down near her, letting her know she had heard her. She flipped the page where there was a wide two-page spread full of people and all varieties of animal. There was so much to take in with so many figures and creatures in every part of the painted area. Again, she pointed to all the different animals in the picture, identified them, and made their accompanying sounds. 

When she got to the leopard sitting next to a boy on a horse, Carol turned to Harrie and asked what kind of sound a leopard made. “Didn’t you see _Bringing Up Baby_?” Harrie asked. “It’s an over-sized kitty cat,” she explained, then made a fierce roaring sound that startled Jack. He didn’t cry, he only stared up at Harrie who smiled back at him, then promptly sneezed in her face. Carol patted down her pockets for a handkerchief, but before she could check her other pocket, Harrie waved one in front of her. “Never have I known you to have a handkerchief.” She wiped Jack’s nose as best she could, grateful that it didn’t get all over Harrie, who certainly didn’t need a cold at the start of their vacation.

“On that note, I think it’s time for this one to get to bed,” said Carol as she finished cleaning up Jack’s nose and upper lip.

“Me too. It’s been a long day.” Carol pouted, wanting to spend the evening staying up late with Harrie, talking, hopefully having some time to themselves before bed. At a moment, she remembered how Harrie had no sleep the night before and had traveled all the way to Greenwich to be with her, made dinner, and still was able to sit around after their meal and be sociable. Before Carol could get up, Harrie walked in front of them and picked Jack up off the floor so Carol could easily stand. Just like Jack had been with Carol earlier, he happily wrapped his little arms around Harrie’s neck and clung to her like a koala. “You don’t have to come with me,” Harrie began, “I can change him and get him into bed.” 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. We’ll just say goodnight and head on up.” Harrie walked over so Jack could get a hug and a kiss from his great-grandfather.

“No, no, let me go with you - “ Carol kept insisting.

“Honestly, I’ve got him. It’s no problem. Really.”

Carol’s grandfather finally looked up from his newspaper and watched the two of them fussing over Jack who was getting sleepier and sleepier, no doubt from spending the past hour looking at Carol’s art books. “Goodnight, Miss Lovell. Get some rest! Tomorrow, we’ll talk about why you think Ted Williams is the next all-star for the Red Sox.”

“You’re on! Thank you, Mr. Ross. Goodnight.” 

As Harrie, Jack, and Carol made their way to the sitting room door, her grandfather softly said, “Carol, could I have a word?”

“Sure, Grandpa.” As Harrie turned back to look at her, Carol shrugged her shoulders and assured her that she'd be upstairs in a moment. She walked back into the sitting room, over toward her grandfather who still sat in his usual chair by the window. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied, “everything’s just fine, Carol. Sit, please.” Very hesitantly, Carol sat down in the chair across from her grandfather who leaned forward in his armchair. “I’m not sure if I’m the one who ought to be having this conversation with you or if it should be your grandmother or your sister, or your father even when he’s out here again, but I will because they don’t see what I see and I don't think they know you as I do.” Her grandfather could see the look of panic in her eyes, and immediately raised his hands. “Now, now, you’re not in any kind of trouble, my dear. Actually, I'm really glad it's just the two of us - and Miss Lovell, of course - these couple of days.”

As Carol relaxed in her seat, it felt vaguely like being in an Andy Hardy movie whenever father and son would have one of their man-to-man moments. Except in this instance, at least her grandfather was considerably more fun that Judge Hardy ever would be. It felt strange: no one had ever sat down with her like this before, but at least if she had to have any kind of serious conversation, it was with her grandfather and not her grandmother, or even her sister.

“Now, you’re almost halfway through your second year of college, kind of deciding now what you are really interested in and what you want to do with all that you’re learning. Maybe, after four years, you want to stop there, maybe you want to go on to graduate school. Have you given any thought to what you want to do after you get your degree?”

Before Carol spoke, she took a deep breath and swallowed. Oh, this isn’t nearly as bad a conversation as it could be, she thought, he’s just curious about school. She could handle this sort of talk. Teachers has been asking her this for years whenever she talked about life after college, she had always been evading a direct answer here or there until she met Harrie. Only Harrie made her really think about it, and with good reason. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. I’m still undecided about graduate school or teaching. Or, I don’t know, some other job I can do with a degree in history of art. Curator? Antiques?”

“Either way, I’m proud that you want to do something with it.”

“Thank you, Grandpa.”

Her grandfather then got up and took the seat directly next to her, still trying to be as calm as possible in talking to his granddaughter, whom he could see was still somewhat nervous. He couldn't even recall having had a similar conversation with his own son at that age. “How about getting married? Are you interested in getting married?”

Not this question, she thought.

Carol took a deep breath and slowly shook her head from side to side, indicating no. “I think... I think I have - things - I want to do and… I don’t see myself able to accomplish that if I am - tied - to a husband. At least for now.”

It took a few seconds, but he nodded in agreement. “That’s perfectly understandable, and I agree with you. You don’t want to be in the midst of your coursework or engaged in an important work project, and suddenly find yourself expecting and have to give all of that up. I know I wouldn’t want to do that, and I can’t imagine, as a woman, having no choice but to make that sort of decision. I wouldn’t want that for you, Carol. Not when you've worked this hard.” Before continuing, he wrung his hands together and slapped his hands down on his knees. “Did you ever meet my sister, your Great Aunt Alice? I can’t recall if you ever did with all those trips out to Washington when you were little.”

Carol thought back, but couldn’t recall ever meeting her Great Aunt Alice. Sure, she had heard of her and seen photos of her grandfather and his family throughout the house. No one talked much about her, no one pointed her out in the photos, and she certainly never visited on the Cape or came to Greenwich at any point she could remember. “No, I don’t think I ever met her.”

“My youngest sister Alice was a sweetheart: kind, thoughtful, pretty as hell with those blonde curls of hers. She went to one of those fancy finishing schools, not like where you and Elaine went, one where a girl just learned how to manage a house, play the piano, embroider, speak French and the like. Alice was smart - like you - and wanted to go to college, but my father, in all his stubbornness, forbid it. I remember after my first year of college, Alice asked for all of my old textbooks and reading lists so she could go through them, and did she! Every summer, I'd give her my books and she'd devour them. My father did let her go to school in Switzerland for a year though and, long story short, while there, she met Anne.

“Anne was from New Hampshire, college-educated, a real nice girl. When she got back from Switzerland, Alice kept bringing her around the house so often, I thought she was trying to get me to court her! This was all before I met your grandmother, mind you. It took a couple of visits to realize Anne didn’t give a fig about me, it was Alice she was there for, and boy, was she awfully sweet on Alice, and Alice was just as sweet on her. Alice never said anything outright to anyone, but it was plain to me at least, and she knew that I understood and trusted me.

“A couple years after college, right before I got my first big promotion, Alice announced to everyone that she and Anne were taking up residence together. No one batted an eye that she was taking Anne as a companion and moving up to Portsmouth. Ladies did that back then, those with independent means like them. Of course, they didn’t know Alice and Anne like I did, and they certainly didn’t think they were anything more than two friends keeping house together. Little did they know!

“Alice was a force to be reckoned with, let me tell you. You two were one in the same as far as I’m concerned. You remind me so much of Alice, Carol. And Miss Lovell? She has that same disposition and passion as Anne from what I recollect. I want you to know that if you want to, well, follow Alice’s example so-to-speak, you have my blessing. I'm not sure if that's what you kids do nowadays, but the choice is yours and I will back you up should you want to. Whatever you choose to do with your life and in your life, I know she'd have been mighty proud of you. She passed back around the time your mother did, so that'd be why the two of you never met.”

Her heart pounded, and Carol was convinced it echoed throughout the room as she stared at her grandfather, wide-eyed and speechless. She could feel her cheeks slowly start to burn, probably becoming the deep shade of crimson they always became when she was intensely embarrassed. She crossed her legs again and sat back in the armchair, eyeing the box of cigarettes on the table next to her and looked back at her grandfather. “Would it be alright if I… ?”

“Go ahead.”

Carol nervously took a cigarette out from the box, placing it between her fingers. Her hand shook, unable to steady it to flick the lighter. Luckily, her grandfather noticed and picked up the lighter to hold it out for her. She didn't really want a cigarette, but she was so nervous she couldn't resist. Before seeing Harrie, she'd have to shower and brush her teeth to dissipate the odor.

“I’m not upset, Carol. I’ve seen the way you look at Miss Lovell, and it’s the same look I saw in Alice’s eyes whenever she'd look at Anne all those years ago. I might have a foggy memory at times, but I remember how Alice looked at her. And it’s the exact look I know I give your grandmother. So whatever you two do, whatever you two are to each other, that’s your business and it stays that way.

“I like Miss Lovell. She’s smart, she's witty, she’s thoughtful, and there are no pretensions about her. You’re good for each other. Of course, I benefit too because she plays cricket with me and is an excellent conversationalist.” Carol finally broke a smile when he directly mentioned Harrie, then shakily took a puff of her cigarette. “I’ve seen the young men nowadays, just look at Elaine's husband: they are nothing to write home about. Or like that fellow, what’s-his-name who came over last summer?”

“Harge?”

“Yes, Harge. He’s not interested in what you got up here; he only wants one thing from a girl like you, Carol. Well, not just one thing, I should say. He’s the kind of fellow who would show off your skills for his own benefit and advancement. Don’t you think I remember how young men are from when I was your age? I would much rather see you content with Miss Lovell as your companion, having a career of your own, and being really, truly loved and appreciated for who you are, than married to someone like him.”

Carol crossed her arms and didn’t move a muscle. She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or complete awkwardness over having this talk with her grandfather, and she could definitely tell that he was thinking the same thing. “Grandpa, I’m… I’m still working out what I want.“

“Please know either way, whatever happens, I will be proud of you, Carol. All of this conversation? This stays between you and me, alright?”

Carol nodded then took another puff of her cigarette. “I appreciate you telling me about Great Aunt Alice. That makes me feel... better, I suppose.”

“It’s a changing world out there, and if the United States gets involved with what’s going on, things are going to change all over again just like they did twenty years ago, whether anyone likes it or not. You're not Elaine, a former flapper with her three or four or however many children, I can't seem to remember; every time she's here, there's another child or one less child, it seems. What I’m saying is: I trust you.”

After putting out her cigarette out in the ashtray that was already brimming over with ashes, Carol learned over and gave him a hug. “I love you, Grandpa.”

“Now get going,” he said. “Someone up there is waiting for you.”

Carol bolted up the stairs, straight into the room where Jack was tucked in, and found Harrie sitting in a chair near the bed, dozing off with a soft light still on to illuminate the bedroom. Against Harrie's chest laid a copy of _The Story of Ferdinand_ , still open to the last page she had been reading. Of course she'd be reading that to Jack, remembering a copy had been tucked away on a shelf in the room from one of the boys’ previous visits. Carol placed a hand on her shoulder to gently rouse her. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I fell asleep.”

“Did Jack settle in alright?”

“He's good. I changed him, cuddled him while I told him a story - oh, I found a copy of _Ferdinand_ on the bookshelf - and he went right to sleep.” Harrie rubbed her eyes and scratched behind her ear. “I could go for some cuddling and sleeping,” she wearily added as she closed the book in her lap.

Carol walked around to face Harrie, holding out her hands to help her stand. “Bed. Come on.”

“I can sleep in here with Jack tonight, it’s no problem… “ Harrie vaguely motioned toward the adjacent bed, a large comfortable bed that had been theirs throughout the summer. When Elaine and her husband arrived, Carol gave up her usual bedroom so they could have the one with the larger bed and greater floor space for Jack's crib. The two boys slept in the room next door on the left and Carol slept in a smaller room to the right of her usual bedroom.

Carol immediately shook her head no. “Jack sleeps here - leave the door open - and we sleep next door. Unless you want to sleep on a couch downstairs.” Carol tugged at Harrie’s hands, pulling her towards the bedroom door and smiled. “Besides, I snore too much and it would wake him, and… my grandfather… knows. About me. Us.”

Harrie stopped all movement and instantaneously let go of Carol's hands. “What? How?”

“No, it’s okay,” she said reaching for her hands again, assuring her everything was alright. “Apparently whenever I look at you it's a dead giveaway,” Carol laughed. “He then went on to explain that… my Great Aunt Alice - his youngest sister - was supposedly a lot like me and lived with another woman in Portsmouth. You know, as ‘companions’ back in the day.” 

“I'm starting to think someone should scientifically study our families because it must be hereditary.”

They both slowly turned back around to observe Jack sleeping in his crib, surrounded by pillows with a small blanket tucked under his chin. They then looked back at each other and silently laughed to themselves, shaking their heads as they left the room and turned the corner to where they were going to sleep.

“He said he'd rather see me take a companion than get married because he knows how I want to continue school or have a career.”

“He's pretty swell, your Grandpa. Should I, I don't know, sit down and have a ‘man-to-man’ with him? Let him know that I have honorable intentions when it comes to you? That I'll have you home by eleven? That I’ll marry you should you get pregnant?”

Carol swatted her arm. “He’d probably love that. And don't worry, he's on the other side of the house and down a floor, so he can't hear us.”

“Yeah, but - “

“Trust me, he’s beginning to get hard of hearing and forgetful about some things. He couldn’t even remember how many kids Elaine has. To be fair though, he did just send me upstairs to you.”

“He did?” Carol nodded her head. Harrie began pulling off her clothes as Carol sat on the edge of the bed, watching as each garment ended up on the floor. Carol liked seeing her wriggle around as she shimmied off her wool trousers and button-down shirt, finally pulling off her argyle socks. “Aren't you getting changed? Or, do you require… assistance?”

“I, um, had a couple cigarettes when I was talking to him. I was really nervous… I'm sorry.”

“If any moment in the history of the world is most deserving of a cigarette, it's probably the one where a grandfather tells his granddaughter that his sister was - “

“I still can’t fucking believe that,” Carol reiterated as she stood to get her bathrobe. “Give me a few minutes to shower and I'll be all set. Would you keep an ear out for Jack?”

“Absolutely.”

As soon as Carol left the room, Harrie pulled out her flannel pajamas and put them on, then quickly jumped into bed to warm up. She turned off the heat, not concerned with warming the room when Carol would be back to warm the bed with her. Not five minutes later, she fell fast asleep, curled around Carol's pillow and snoring. 

When she came back from the bathroom, Carol found her sleeping with the lights on and holding her pillow tightly. She pried the pillow from her hands before settling in beside her, placing Harrie's arm around her hip, and her own around Harrie's waist, just underneath her pajama top to press against cool bare skin. Harrie stirred the moment she felt Carol's hand on her and gripped with her own to see where it was, finding it poised on her hip. Pleased, she pulled Carol toward her, muttering, “I love you so much,” before falling back asleep. 

* * *

Tuesday, December 19th, 1939  
9:43 p.m.

“Pass.”

“I'll pass,” Harrie muttered. “And I’m hungry,” she added as she placed her cards down on the table.

“You're always hungry,” sighed Carol.

“I must agree with Miss Lovell. I'm hungry.”

Harrie turned to Carol’s grandfather and asked, “Sandwiches?”

“I'll go,” Carol offered. “Ham or liverwurst?”

Her grandfather and Harrie eyed each other, waiting to see who could make up their minds first. “Ham and cheese with lots of mustard,” he piped in.

“Same, please.”

“Don't look at my cards.” As Carol started to walk away, her grandfather and Harrie nodded to one another, pointing at the pile of face-down cards on the table. When she reached the door, she turned around and scurried back to the table to pick up her cards and placed them in her dress pocket. “On second thought… “ She gave Harrie a disapproving look, then humorously scowled at her grandfather prior to leaving the room. He stood and walked to the bar, pouring himself a tumbler of Scotch.

He held up his glass, silently asking if Harrie wanted some. “No need for modesty, how much?”

“Double will do me fine.”

He walked back over to hand Harrie her drink and place his on the table before going to open the nearest window only a crack as the room was getting stuffy from his cigar and the one cigarette Carol had smoked when they first started playing cards. “So, are you looking forward to heading out to California, Miss Lovell?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, enough of that 'sir’ business. Call me Mr. Ross. Actually, just call me Harry when it's only the three of us.” He winked at her as soon as he took his seat.

“Deal,” she grinned, “but only if you call me Harrie too.” They clinked glasses and each took a swig of Scotch.

“Deal,” he answered. “Have you been out there before?”

“No, never been.”

“My son - you know, Carol's father - lives out Seattle way. We've made the trip a few times when Carol was little, but not so much recently with her grandmother's health.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Will Carol be joining you?”

“Well, Mr. Ross - Harry - I don't know.” She looked back toward the door Carol had exited from. “I’ve asked her to - I mean, I’ve said she could apply to graduate school out there or even get a job that way - if she wanted to. It’s a big change. I don’t necessarily want to… pressure her into something she doesn’t want.”

“It’s up to her.”

“Precisely. It’s up to her,” she repeated with a firm voice, “but I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit to you, or myself, that I would very much like her to join up with me after she graduates.”

“A year-and-a-half is a long time, Harrie.”

Harrie lowered her head, picking up her glass of Scotch. “It is.” Just before the glass hit her lips, she added, “Luckily I'm a very patient person.”

“Let’s hope Carol is.”

By the time Carol returned to the room ten minutes later carrying two plates of sandwiches, she caught sight of her grandfather sitting at the table with Harrie, throwing back a shot of Scotch while Harrie took a couple puffs from his cigar. Harrie incessantly coughed, tightly shutting her eyes and wrinkling up her face as she attempted to catch her breath, “Yeah, not for me either,” she admitted as she passed the cigar back. As soon as she stopped hacking, Harrie reached for her Scotch and took a sip.

“A pipe, maybe?”

“No, I don’t think I am meant for anything tobacco.”

“What are you two doing?” exclaimed Carol.

Chiming in, her grandfather answered, “Harrie here asked what sort of business I was in before retirement, so I let her sample some of the local merchandise.” Carol groaned, taking the tumbler of Scotch from Harrie’s hand to drink the rest herself as to have an empty glass. She walked over to the bar and filled the glass with seltzer to bring back over to Harrie. “Apparently, she’s never smoked a cigar before, or a pipe.” 

“Drink.” She held out the glass which Harrie eagerly took and gulped down. “She’s sensitive to smoke. When she’s the one smoking, that is.” Carol rubbed her back to soothe her, not caring that her grandfather was sitting there in front of them. It wasn’t as though she would have done differently if Harrie wasn’t who she was. “Harriet, you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” Harrie stammered, admitting defeat by cigar. 

“Grandpa was in the tobacco business; he still owns a bunch of acreage and drying sheds north of Hartford.” Carol pressed the plate toward her. “Here, eat something,” she said to Harrie. She then handed her grandfather the other plate and sat down across from them. 

By the time they had gotten through half their sandwiches, Carol’s grandfather sat up and wagged a finger in Carol’s direction. “Before I forget… “ He reached into his jacket to pull an envelope from his pocket. “Consider this an early Christmas present for you two.”

Carol took the small envelope from him and carefully opened the flap to peer inside. She immediately shut it, looking back up at her grandfather with awe. “Grandpa, honestly. This… this is too much.”

“What is it?”

Carol passed the envelope over to Harrie, who peered inside to inspect its contents herself. Enclosed were two train tickets, two crisp ten-dollar bills, and two tickets for the Friday night showing of _Gone With the Wind_ at the Astor.

“I got those yesterday morning after I dropped everyone off in the city. I figured you’d want a break after minding Jack - and me - for a couple days. Plus it’s not fair all the others got to go into town at Christmastime while you stayed at home, even if you did offer. When you mentioned Harrie was coming, I took the liberty of getting movie and train tickets for the pair of you. I know how much you’ve wanted to see it.”

Carol stood to give her grandfather a hug. “Thank you, Grandpa.”

“Now, that picture doesn’t start until eight-fifteen and they advised that the runtime is about four hours with intermission, which means it won’t be over until well after midnight. So there’s some money in there for dinner and for you to stay over for Thursday and Friday or Friday and Saturday nights. Go do some Christmas shopping or whatever it is you girls do when you go to the city.”

Without rising from the table, Harrie leaned over, balanced on two chair legs and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, so much, Harry.”

“‘Harry’?” Both her grandfather and Harrie nodded in reply to her, looking up and grinning.

* * *

Friday, December 22nd, 1939  
8:08 p.m.

“Handkerchiefs?”

“I got two. Most importantly, do you?” asked Harrie.

“Three.”

“Drinks?” Carol looked around their seats. “You didn’t get a root beer or ginger ale?”

“Nah, just the flask of Bourbon in my purse that your grandfather gave me.”

“Harriet, really.”

“Just kidding.” Harrie leaned over and whispered into her ear, “it’s actually tucked into my garter, but you can reach under my skirt and help yourself whenever you’d like.”

“Cheeky,” she sighed as she pinched Harrie's arm.

“Your grandfather deserves a medal for getting us these tickets.”

“He knew I've been waiting to see this since I read the book and they announced the movie.”

“Prime seats too.” 

“They should be. They were $2.20 a piece.”

“For a movie? $2.20 for a movie?”

“Not just any movie, darling.”

“Good thing they threw in a program then.” Harrie shook her head and nudged Carol with her elbow. “In that case, help me pick out something really nice for him tomorrow, would you?” 

“Then it sounds like a date at Frankenberg’s first thing tomorrow morning.”

Harrie paused to look at Carol, thinking to herself what an odd remark she had just made.

* * *

Saturday, December 23rd, 1939  
1:05 a.m.

“Okay, there is some seriously questionable content in there, some dubious distortions of history.”

“Put that aside for all of fifteen minutes,” Carol laughed. She moved around the curved booth to sit to Harrie’s right, eyeing the other occupants of the coffee shop as she placed herself exactly at her side, pressed against her as best she could. She pushed her coffee cup closer to her, then dropped her left hand into her lap. “What did you like?”

Harrie found it difficult to hide her smiles. “The music, the costumes, the sets, the visual effects, and, of course, Vivien Leigh. She made it for me. I love the character of Scarlett. Scarlett is this blend of all the impressive female characters we’ve seen over the past few months: Ninotchka, Kathy, Saunders, Judith… other Cathy… even Dorothy.”

“How the hell does she not have top billing? She’s Scarlett. Scarlett _is_ the picture. The picture is about Scarlett.” Carol said, picking up a half-eaten doughnut to dunk into the mug of coffee. “Vivien Leigh is stunning, so talented, so beautiful.”

“Agreed.” Harrie sat up straighter in the booth and grinned. “Perhaps it’s the luminous eyes?”

“Mmm huh.”

“Or… that she's English?”

“Mmm huh.”

“Or maybe it’s because… she’s a brunette with shoulder-length hair.”

“Mmm huh.”

“Pretty sure she has dimples too.”

“I’d say so.”

“Say, Carol? You’ve got a type,” Harrie snickered.

“What?” 

Harrie reached for another doughnut, not elaborating, and doing her best to hide a smile. She took a bite without saying anything further, simply letting it sink in. When Carol realized it, her eyes widened and she looked up from her coffee mug at Harrie who was now visibly smiling and brushing her hair away from her face. All Carol could see was pure happiness next to her, cheerful dimples that all she wanted to do was kiss, over and over and over again.

“That may be so,” she began and looked around, “but you are sexy and you're cute and you're mine.”

“I'm yours? Well, in that case I - “

She suddenly stopped speaking, unable to continue with Carol’s hand lazily crawling beneath her skirt, up her right thigh, inching toward the flask tucked beneath her garter. Wriggling it free, she teasingly dragged the cool metal around to her inner thigh, then continued down her leg until she reached the hem of her skirt where she was able to pull it up to her lap. Untwisting the top under the cover of the table, Carol glanced around once more to see if anyone was looking in their direction, but with it being after one in the morning and everyone in there weary and focused on sipping their coffees, no one minded the two occupants of the booth in the back corner. She poured a shot of Bourbon into her coffee as well as Harrie’s and twisted the cap shut. 

“Typically, you take a girl to dinner first before doing a thing like that.”

“I did.”

“And then take her on a date to, I dunno, the pictures?”

“Did that too.”

“Then after said pictures, a chocolate soda or an egg cream?”

“Coffee and doughnuts because you love doughnuts more than an egg cream.”

“Oh, well, in that case, why don’t we wrap all this up and you can walk me to my hotel door, and seal up the whole evening with a peck on the cheek?” Harrie teased. She took a sip of her Bourbon-spiked coffee, grabbed the vanilla doughnut she had been eating and dipped it into the coffee. When she took a bite, Harrie moaned loud enough that one customer in the front of the coffee shop perked up a little.

“I plan on more than a peck on the cheek,” she declared. “I expect you to invite me in so I can be the one to make you moan like that. Now finish that goddamn coffee.”

Perhaps it was the double shot of Bourbon, but Harrie had never blushed so hard in her whole life and downed the rest of her coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUA5jB2MPCc) for _Gone With the Wind_ (1939) dir. Victor Fleming


	13. Les Parapluies de Cherbourg

Monday, December 22nd, 1947  
1:35 p.m.

Carol spooned some bicarbonate into the glass of water and swished the contents around to mix everything thoroughly. She downed the mixture as quickly as possible, placing the glass on the nightstand. Nothing seemed to agree with her stomach lately, and all the rich holiday meals her sister had been preparing - or rather, asked to be prepared - weren’t helping her digestion any.

“Why does everything have to fucking hurt?” she exclaimed, then muttered a string of obscenities to herself as she wandered around the room putting things away, brushing her hair, and drawing the curtains shut just enough to mask some of the light.

Next, her attention shifted to her feet. Carol kicked off her flats, making sure they stayed accessible and easy to put back on later. Her feet hurt, her breasts were swollen, her socks felt miserably tight all the way up to her ankles. Fatigue wasn’t particularly bothering her, but she did just want some time to herself where she didn’t have to listen to everyone gushing about the baby.

Carol sighed, looking down at her feet, which she gratefully could still see, although not sure for how much longer. “Fuck if I am ever doing this again.”

She didn’t shut the door to the bedroom, only left it ajar seeing as she was at the other end of the house and no one would bother her. She had to wait until Christmas Eve for Harge to come down to Virginia, and even then he was planning to leave almost straight after Christmas so he could entertain clients during the week between Christmas and New Year's.

So he said.

Carol knew he didn’t want to be around her. Not after what had happened with Abby. Even if she was five months pregnant, Harge needed time. How much time, she didn’t know, especially with the baby due in April. Timing, she silently mused, always a matter of timing.

For starters, she didn’t even understand why she had told him. It wasn’t out of guilt necessarily, more out of a desire to be honest about who she was and had always been. As much as she could tell herself any of these things, or tell Abby, she had to tell Harge, and he deserved to hear it above all others. By saying anything to him in the first place was merely a casual reminder of the woman he had married and knew he had married, and the woman she always knew she was and would always be.

It didn’t matter though. If Harge wouldn’t be around, too preoccupied with work and entertaining guests, she could manage on her own. She could get a live-in nanny. Or, there was always Abby. Maybe they could make a go of it again.

No. Abby had moved on. Abby always moved on quickly. She wouldn’t be interested in being there to pick up the pieces. Especially not if there was a child involved.

Then Carol thought, there was Harriet. 

What if, she told herself. 

Not a chance. Not a good idea. No, she had probably moved on as well and forgotten all about her. Found herself a girl out there in California. Found her own friends, a new life, a career, and everything she had always dreamed for herself.

However, Carol had everything she had always wanted too, right?

Before she could sit down on the bed, there was a scampering of feet running down the hallway. She looked out the door to see the two oldest boys barrelling their way down the hall, peering into each of the rooms. 

“Aunt Carol! Aunt Carol!” 

“What is it, boys?” she asked, thoroughly annoyed by their stomping and rowdiness. “I really must have you both be quiet. Alright?”

“Have you seen Jack?”

“No. He’s not with you?” she asked. Both boys shook their heads, trying to look into her room to see if he was there. “Sorry, I can’t help you. Now please, be quiet and let me rest.”

Carol swiftly shut the door and walked straight to the bed where she curled up with a pillow between her knees and very contentedly shut her eyes. She let out a sigh, enjoying the quiet room and air that didn’t smell of cooking and baking, adding to the persistent nausea she had been experiencing.

“Are they gone?” came a small voice from under the bed.

Startled, Carol sat up as fast as she could and looked down to the bottom of the bed to spot Jack peeking out from the bedskirt. “What the hell… Jack! What are you doing in here?”

Jack slid out from under the bed, his hair messy, his sweater vest full of dust - apparently his mother did not frequently clean under the beds - and his collar upturned. “Hiding.” There was no need for her to ask why he was hiding under the bed, the answer was evident from the boisterous duo who had practically barged into the room looking for him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to hear you say ‘fuck’ six times, ‘hell’ twice, and then something about really missing a tabby pussycat… or something like that.”

Carol groaned and walked over to where her purse hung in the closet. From her billfold, she pulled out a dollar bill and held it out toward him. “Just because you swore?”

Worried, Carol looked back at her billfold, then to Jack who looked just as confused. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” she asked as she sat down on the bed.

“I don’t know. We don't have a swear jar, but thank you for the dollar, Aunt Carol.” Jack put the money into his pocket then knelt down to reach under the bed to pick up his hardcover book and flashlight. “Are you gonna kick me out?”

“No, darling,” she said and patted the other side of the bed. “Come sit up here and we can talk about school and that terribly big book you’re reading. And don't you dare repeat any of what I said or your parents will murder me.”

Jack kicked off his oxfords, then started to climb up onto the bed. As he got closer, Carol noticed how dusty he had become and stuck out her arm before he could hop up.

“Oh, no. Vest off, it’s all dusty.” Jack raised his arms and Carol pulled it up over his head, tossing it onto the chair by the bedroom door beside the shoes he had removed. “And your hair… “ she reached to the bedside table to get her hairbrush and quickly brush away any dust stuck to the top of his head. When she looked back at her hairbrush, she made a face and placed it back on the table. “There. Now you can come up. Gently though; don’t shake the bed too much or I might throw up again.”

“Mom said I ought to be extra quiet and extra well-behaved because you’re going to have a baby.”

Carol ordered Jack to move over to the other side of the bed so she could lie down again with the pillow between her knees. “Did she tell your brothers too?” 

“Yes, but they’re… “ he began, “they don’t listen really well and… Mom says they’re animals.”

“Boys,” muttered Carol. God, she hoped she didn’t have a boy because the likelihood that they would grow into being as calm and gentle as Jack was slim to none given most of the Ross and Aird men she had met. As far as she knew, her grandfather could have even been a hellion when he was younger. Maybe Jack had gotten it from his father’s side of the family.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Jack eagerly asked. 

“A girl. Besides, I already have a very special little boy in my life,” she replied. Jack couldn’t help but smile. She turned her attention to the book Jack had placed on the bed. It looked familiar, clothbound and hardcover, missing its dust jacket, very rough around the corners. She opened the book and found exactly what she thought would be on the inside cover. “Very nice book you have there, young man,” she said, tapping the bookplate with her name on it pasted on the inside.

Jack blushed when he heard her finger tapping; her red-painted fingernails completely drew his attention to the bookplate with Carol’s name on it. “I found it at Great-Grandpa’s. There were a whole bunch of your books there and I took a few. I took the dust cover off this for when I read it. Is that okay?”

“I’m glad you took them. I’m glad someone is using them,” she said. “So how’s school going? We haven’t had much chance to chat since I got here.”

Glancing down at his book and then out the window, Jack coughed a couple times then looked back at his aunt. “School’s alright.”

His tone was despondent, prompting Carol to think the worst. “No one’s been picking on you, have they?” she asked, touching his arm to pull his attention back to her.

Laughing, Jack shook his head. “No one at school is picking on me, Aunt Carol.”

“Good,” she said as she let go of his arm, “that’s a comfort. You'd tell me, right?” Jack nodded. She inhaled, deeply exhaling a moment later. “Do you have a favorite subject?”

“I like science. History too.”

“That’s an interesting combination,” Carol commented, rubbing the top of her stomach and taking a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, just the baby - or my internal organs - moving around. One or the other. Or both.” 

Jack stared at his aunt, observing the way she shifted around on the bed trying to get comfortable with her pillows by her head and between her knees. She seemed upset, distant, and in a considerable amount of physical discomfort.

“Aunt Carol, are you sad?” Jack blurted out.

Carol looked into his worried blue eyes, and rather than plainly answer his question, she alternately asked, “Why do you say that?” 

“Seems like you are. Please don’t be sad.” 

He placed his hand on Carol’s pillow next to her head, waiting for her to grasp it in her own. She took his small hand, squeezed it, and held it there as she nuzzled her head into the pillow, unable to look Jack in eye as she spoke. “I’ve been missing one of my friends very much lately.” 

It felt so wonderful, yet so strange, for her to openly tell someone that.

“Can you see your friend when you get home?”

“No, she lives in California now.”

Jack thought for a moment, then offered, “You could always write her a letter.”

“She wouldn't want to hear from me.”

“Why not? I thought you said she’s your friend.”

Her heart sank. A feeling she was getting all-too-well accustomed to as of late. They were friends, at least until Carol loused it all up. All of it seemed so long ago and somewhere so overtly removed from the present day. “Would you be an angel and go get my purse from the closet?”

“Sure.” 

Jack let go of her hand and carefully climbed off the bed, mindful to not shake it too much, and retrieve his aunt's purse from the closet. He walked back over, placing it onto the bed first before coming back up. From her billfold, Carol pulled out a photo and studied at it. She remembered that day so well: how happy she was, how hot the fairgrounds were, how Jack had thrown up in the car. Again. When she was done looking, she turned it toward Jack so he could see. 

Jack looked at the photo and back up at his aunt. “Who’s that? Is that me?”

“That's you,” she said pointing to the child she lovingly held in her arms in the picture wearing a little felt whoopee cap, collared shirt, and shorts.

“No, it’s not!”

“It most certainly is! I'd know my own adorable nephew anywhere. This is my absolute favorite photo of you.”

Puzzled, Jack picked up his book and turned to the back where he pulled out an eerily similar photo, clearly taken on the same day, at the same time, but this one had three people in it. “Then who's that?” Jack pointed to a dark-haired woman holding him as he puckered his lips to kiss her. His aunt stood with her arms wrapped tightly around the dark-haired woman's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder with their cheeks pressed together. 

They were happy. All three of them. Looking at the camera. Completely happy.

“Right there? In front of me? Well, that's… that’s… uh, Harriet.”

It has been years since she'd seen a picture of Harrie and that one, of the three of them that day at the World's Fair was one of the happiest days of her life. A rush of warmth came over her, but as quickly as the warmth overcame her, it ceased when she remembered how all of that was nothing more than a memory.

“Is that your friend? The one you miss?” Carol nodded. Jack looked her square in eye and in a very serious tone muttered, “You like her.”

Carol tilted her head, studying the photo more, curious how he could determine that from just a small snapshot. “Why do you say that?”

“The way you’re holding onto her, and your cheeks,” he answered. 

“I liked her very much,” Carol softly admitted, unable to stop looking at the picture, “and she liked you - she absolutely adored you. Every night, before bed, she would hold you in her lap, read to you until you fell asleep, then tuck you in.”

“Really?” Carol nodded and reached her hand up to brush away a strand of his blond hair. Now Jack looked sad, patiently waiting to say something. “Mom and Dad don't read to me at night,” he sighed. “Maybe I'm too old for that sort of thing.”

Carol scrunched her eyebrows and sat up in bed, fluffing a pillow to put behind her back so she could comfortably lean against the headboard. “We'll start now then. Afternoon readings too.” 

Jack held up the book sitting in his lap. “Do you think we could read this? Together?”

“Of course, Jack. Every day I’m here, alright?”

Carol took the book out of his hand and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “You hang onto this.” She took the photo including Harrie and placed it back in its home on the last page of what was now Jack's beloved book. 

Arms outstretched, Jack sat up next to her, resting the back of his head against her shoulder. “She’ll like it too,” he said, placing his small hand gently on Carol’s belly.

Propping the book above her stomach, Carol opened to the first page of text and started to read, “‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...’”

* * *

Thursday, September 3rd, 1953  
11:45 a.m.

When Carol got the call from Elaine announcing that she wanted to put Jack on a train to New York and it would be her responsibility to get him off to boarding school in Connecticut for the first day, she was slightly taken aback. Carol didn’t mind at all, and in fact was a bit surprised that her sister would so willingly put her youngest on a train by himself from Washington, D.C. to New York. She hadn’t seen too much of Jack after Rindy was born, except for family events in Virginia and the occasional gathering at the house in Greenwich. They never came to New Jersey, never came to the house she had shared with Harge in those years after the war. 

When they did see each other, Jack was always awkward with Rindy when she was very little, never certain how to hold her properly and terrified he'd cradle her head wrong or hurt her. He never did, but always worried. Regardless, he was always more than willing to read to her from his favorite childhood books, like _The Story of Ferdinand, Make Way for Ducklings_ or _Homer Price_. Carol loved those nights where she would go into a room and spot Jack enthusiastically going through book after book, reading the voices of different characters, and making Rindy smile.

“Jack will be arriving on Wednesday, around six-thirty at Penn Station. Can you get him?” she asked over the phone at the beginning of August. 

Carol glanced at her calendar, more or less empty as she and Therese hadn’t accrued nearly enough vacation time to do anything that summer other than to stay home on weekends with a thin cotton sheet draping over them as they slept or wandered around the apartment nude in the intense summer heat.

“I’ll be there.”

“And can you put him on the train to school on September 3rd? He should to be there in the afternoon. Jack has all the papers.”

Carol nodded her head, forgetting her sister couldn’t see her on the other end of the phone. “Of course, September 3rd. Actually, I’ll drive him up to Wallingford instead. How’s that?”

“Thank you, Carol, I appreciate it,” and then Elaine was silent for a couple beats until she cleared her throat and began speaking again. “I know Jack thinks the world of you, and despite the fact you’re… I’m hoping that him being around you and Teresa will… “ She coughed into the mouthpiece, making Carol tilt the receiver away from her ear; Elaine never could get Therese’s name right. “...make him appreciate... _girls_ more than… boys.”

It would have been very easy for Carol to yell at her sister. She never did really, she couldn’t. She had already had her presence in Rindy’s life drastically reduced due to the interference of Harge and his family; she couldn’t lose the other child who was so important to her. While Elaine didn’t seem to honestly care one way or the other about her living with Therese, she didn’t necessarily fully approve of it either. Elaine always knew her younger sister was different, from Carol’s attitudes toward school to her working while she had been married, they were greatly different. At least they were still speaking to one another, no matter how infrequently.

“Oh, we’ll do our best,” Carol flippantly replied. Nonetheless, despite the ridiculous comment she had made, Carol did have a hearty laugh once she put the phone down. It doesn’t work that way, she wanted to shout into the phone, none of this works that way! 

She thought back to the night when her grandfather told her about Great Aunt Alice, and how she and Harrie had peered into his crib, just wondering what it was with the youngest siblings on the Ross side of the family. She then thought about Rindy and wondered if it also affected the children without siblings.

The moment she and Elaine hung up, Carol crossed her legs and sat back in her chair next to the telephone, excited that Jack would be visiting. Mostly overjoyed that she could be open with someone in her family in regards her life with Therese, especially since her grandfather’s passing a few years earlier, and even if that someone was her fourteen-year-old nephew. With her situation still tentative regarding Rindy being able to visit or stay over, it felt comforting to know there was also Jack.

Carol then remembered something, something seemingly trivial, and smiled to herself. She picked up the phone again, dialing the operator to make a long-distance call.

That first night at the apartment, as they were finishing up their ice cream and Carol rambled on about taking Jack school shopping over the weekend, convinced that he had already outgrown his new shoes his mother bought only three weeks earlier, Therese made her excuses to rush off to the darkroom for an hour or so with her latest project that had to be done for the following day. Now alone at the table with Carol, Jack glanced over to his suitcase and foot locker, resting in the hallway, and awaiting a room to put everything in. Therese had made dinner, so by the time they walked in the door, Carol and Jack only had time to leave everything in the entryway and wash their hands in the kitchen before sitting down together.

As he finished his dessert, Jack sat up in his chair, watching his aunt take a sip of wine. Carol looked down at her ice cream she had hardly touched and slid the small bowl across the table to her nephew.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and dug his spoon into the ice cream. After a few oversized spoonfuls, the ice cream disappeared, and Jack pushed the other bowl away from him. He rested his elbows on the table, then caught himself, knowing better than to do that, especially in front of his aunt. Jack took another look at his belongings sitting out in the foyer, then turned back to the table. “Aunt Carol? I have a question.”

“Hmmm?”

“Where am I sleeping?”

“In the guest room. It's all made up for you.”

He wasn't sure if he should press further; his aunt didn't seem hesitant to reply and was very matter-of-fact about it. He didn't want to be rude, but had so many questions. “That’s not Therese’s room?”

“No, darling.” Jack noticed that the question slightly unnerved her, or more that she became somewhat shy, shakily reaching for her wine glass to find it nearly empty and in need of at least another round in order to have the conversation she thought she would be having.

“So… “

“We share a bedroom, Jack,” Carol answered before he could even pose the question.

“Oh. So… who is Therese?” he asked, then quickly added, “To you, I mean. Who… _is_ she? Is she your friend?”

“Well, yes, but - “

“Like - like Harriet was your friend?”

“Jack - “

“The bookplate in that copy of _The Hobbit_? I saw how the inscription was pasted over. The glue became brittle and got loose… “ Jack was starting to ramble and he stopped himself before going any further.

“That’s a very long story.”

“Is Therese why Mom calls you a dyke?”

Carol couldn't say a word, keeping her eyes fixed on the glass of wine inches from her fingers. Jack could tell she was furious and doing her best to hide her emotions from him. She poured herself another glass of wine before speaking and took a healthy sip. “Among the many reasons,” she admitted, ashamed how her kind nephew had to hear such talk from his own mother of all people. “I’m very sorry you had to hear that.”

“Why apologize? It’s not like you called yourself that.”

“It just hurts that my own sister would… after… with your older… I have _never_ judged her.”

“You've always been nice to me and looked out for me.” Jack looked down at the napkin in his lap then back up at his aunt. “I know why my mother sent me up here early. She’s worried I’m… “

“Don’t say it,” Carol sighed. “No more of that. What matters is: Are _you_ ‘worried’ as she puts it?”

“Not at all,” he smiled.

“Good, and know that I love you - and Therese loves you - very much and just as you are.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I knew I liked girls when I was about your age probably. Even if I didn't voice it or act upon it until I was, I don't know, seventeen or eighteen; and those I have loved: Harriet, your Uncle Harge, your Aunt Abby - “

“Aunt Abby too?” he exclaimed.

Carol threw her head in her hands then lowered them to reveal a smile. Why was that always everyone’s reaction, she asked herself. “Yes, but that’s - “

“A very long story?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a laugh then quickly turned serious again, “but my point is, I absolutely love Therese. There may have been many sad, difficult years to get here - painful things even - but right now, I am so happy, and Therese is the reason for that.”

“I'm glad she makes you happy.” Jack stood up and began to stack the dishes to clear the table. Once he had everything in a manageable pile, he stopped and eagerly asked, “Do you think I could call her ‘Aunt Therese’?”

“She'd love that.”

Despite having to work, Carol managed to be home for lunch with Jack every day. Most days she'd come home to lunch already prepared with a tray of sandwiches, sliced celery stalks filled with cream cheese and sprinkled with paprika (“We have paprika?” Carol suspiciously asked), and bottles of Coke; all neatly placed on the dining room table for the moment she would walk in the door. 

Sometimes, Therese would join them when she could actually get away for a full lunch hour, and they would have a picnic out on the terrace if the weather was agreeable. In the evenings, the three of them would go to dinner and perhaps the movies or the theater, always something fun and always all three together.

During the two weeks Jack stayed over, he learned how to use a camera and develop his own film, was introduced to artistic masterpieces thanks to afternoon and weekend museum visits and a copy of _The Story of Art_ he was given, and drank his first beer late one night out on the terrace with his Aunt Carol as they sat and looked at the city lights.

Most importantly, he had two weeks where he could be himself and be thoroughly loved by his two adoring aunts.

* * *

“I wish Aunt Therese could have come along.”

“I asked,” Carol sighed, “about ten times. She simply couldn’t finagle the day off work in the middle of the week.”

“Next time?”

“Yes, next time.”

“Like if Mom and Dad can't come up for Parents’ Weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

“Aunt Carol?”

“Hmmm?”

“The turn’s up there on the right,” Jack instructed, pointing to the street signs and referring back to the map in his hands he had picked up from the registration table.

“Thank you, my navigator.”

“Aunt Carol?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“Am I going to like it?”

“Your new school?”

“Yeah.”

Without turning her gaze from the road, Carol kept her eyes forward, but couldn’t help forming a small smile. “You will.”

“I don’t know my way around.”

“You will.”

“I don’t know anyone.”

“You will.”

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” Jack exasperatedly inquired, still nervously sitting at the other side of the bench seat and picking at his fingers.

Carol laughed. “No.” She parked the car in the turnaround, amazed there weren’t any other cars parked out front the dormitory to unload suitcases and trunks. One of the older boys out front with a clipboard noticed Jack and Carol popping open the trunk and shifting around the foot locker to get it out, and told Carol to not worry about it because he could help carry it up the front steps. Jack and Carol had managed to get it into the trunk in the first place, after all. 

When Jack entered the room, carrying one end of the trunk, he spotted what he concluded was his roommate sitting on a neatly made bed, reading a book. The other bed was still rolled up and unmade, undoubtedly Jack’s. 

He thanked the older boy who helped him with the trunk, then gave a quick once-over to the dorm room. It wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and bright, and he’d feel instantly better once he could get the bed made and everything unpacked. Before Jack even opened his trunk, he turned around to look at the tanned, dark-haired boy sitting on the bed reading.

“Hello.” Jack held out his hand. “How are you? I’m Jack.”

“Ted. How do you do?”

Jack looked over at his roommate’s side, noticing how he had already unpacked his belongings and was preoccupied with reading _The Hobbit_. “Do you like it?” Jack asked, nodding toward the book in his hand. 

“It’s one of my favorites. I’ve read it seven times,” he replied. 

“Your copy looks different from mine.”

“Did you bring yours?”

“Yeah, it’s… “ Jack gesticulated toward the trunk on his bed, “...somewhere.” As Jack popped open the trunk, he looked at the mess of clothes, shoes, books, and toiletries that he had shoved in there, humorously remembering how his aunt sat on top of it earlier that morning, unable to shut it until finally Therese parked herself in Carol's lap.

“Where are you from?” Ted asked.

“Virginia, outside of Washington. My aunts live in New York though and we drove up from there. You?”

“San Francisco. Near San Francisco,” he answered. “Ever been?”

“Never, but I'd love to see it. All your family out there?”

Ted put down his book and hesitantly answered. “No, my grandparents live in Pennsylvania and my unc - “

As Jack continued unpacking his foot locker, shoving clothes in drawers and haphazardly placing books on top of his desk, his aunt appeared in the doorway, out of breath, and minorly annoyed, carrying a desk lamp and interrupting Ted. “They made me move the damn car.” 

“You find a spot okay?”

“I did over on the street… sorry, I’m all disoriented,“ Carol turned around and then back, trying to get her bearings. It was then she saw the dark-haired boy sitting on the bed. “And… who’s this?”

Jack walked over to his aunt and introduced them. “Aunt Carol, this is Ted. Ted, this is my aunt, Mrs. Carol Aird.”

Ted put down his book to stand, smiling, and eagerly held out his hand. “How do you do, Mrs. Aird.” 

Before shaking his hand, Carol removed her gloves and tossed them into her purse. “Pleasure to meet you, Ted.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Before Ted resumed reading, he looked back at Carol and squinted, studying her face as soon as she looked away. Carol took note of the book resting face down on the bed, doing her best to hide a smirk as she shifted her attention to Jack unloading his foot locker. It was nearly empty, but the books he had tossed out onto the desk still had to be put on the shelves and Carol busied herself with methodically arranging them.

Looking at everything coming together, Jack stopped to admire the items on Ted’s bookshelves. There were books, a few trinkets, a hefty Swiss Army knife, a well-worn baseball glove cradling three baseballs, and another type of ball he didn't recognize. “What's that?” Jack pointed to the ball on the bookshelf next to the baseball glove.

“It's a cricket ball.”

“Do you play or is it a souvenir or something?”

Ted looked at the bookshelf with a grin, then back to his curious new roommate. “I play. I got a cricket bat and everything in the closet if you'd like to play sometime. I can teach you.”

“Okay. What about baseball? Do you play?”

“Yeah, but I'm not very good,” he shyly responded, “but I like going to the games. You?”

Jack shook his head. “Same… not very good at it,” he laughed.

“What are you good at then?” Jack shrugged and shifted his weight from side to side. “There must be something,” Ted smiled.

Jack lifted the now empty trunk off the bed and slid it beneath, out of the way. “I'm a pretty good swimmer, I guess.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Carol observed the two boys speaking to one another, instantly detecting that Ted was extremely shy (but trying very hard to be outgoing) and Jack the complete, boisterous opposite (but trying very hard to be modest). “Jack, darling, why don't you make up your bed? The sheets are on your chair.”

“Alright, Aunt Carol.”

Carol walked over by Ted, asking if she could sit down at the corner of his bed. Holding out his hand to signify it was alright, Ted put down his book and shifted himself to sit with his legs hanging over the side. The two of them watched as Jack busied himself with lifting the mattress to tuck in the corner of the sheet and throw a blanket on top. Carol leaned to her left and smoothly murmured into Ted’s ear, “Your mum tells me you have a 'wicked good _ahm_.’” 

Ted, unable to say anything for a couple moments, sat motionless as he processed what Carol had said, then turned to look at her. “How do you - “ 

“Shhh,” said Carol as she winked at the boy and pointed at the photograph on his desk of Ted and two women fiercely hugging him. “Monterey?” she whispered, and Ted nodded. “And call me Carol when it's just us.” Carol stood up and looked for her gloves, forgetting that she had placed them inside her purse. “Would you like to join us for lunch, Ted?” she asked in a more audible voice. “We can talk more later.”

Ted, still completely stunned and wide-eyed, glanced at his watch. “I would love to, but my mum should be back any minute now and she said to … “ he barely stammered out before he was interrupted.

“Honestly, the nerve of that woman in the Packard. She took my goddamn parking spot and I’ve been driving up and down the fu- “ 

“Hey, I found the book,” Jack blurted out as he offered his copy of _The Hobbit_ to Ted. As he held it out, the book and Jack's arm collided with the woman who had rushed into the room and tumbled onto the floor along with the glasses clipped to the v of her shirt. Two photographs slipped out of the back of the book and landed on the floor at her feet. “I’m really, really sorry, ma’am. Are you okay?” She bent down to pick them up, instantly noticing a familiar scrawl on the backs, one in freshly written black ink and the other in dull smudged pencil. Still crouched down, she grabbed the book then the photos, which she turned right side round to look at as she stood up. She glanced around the room and noticed three very familiar faces looking back at her.

“I’m fine, Jack, just fine” she said with a gentle touch to his arm. “You’ve grown - quite a bit - since I last saw you.” It was Jack’s turn to look thoroughly puzzled as he took the time to study the dark-haired woman whom he realized he knew from a single photograph tucked in the back of his favorite book. He couldn't help but grin when he made the connection.

“Only a little,” he jokingly said. “You must be Harrie. Wait, Harriet? Miss Lovell… no, Dr. Lovell?”

“I believe this is yours now?” She held out the book for him, however held onto the photographs. “Take good care of that: It's a first edition. And please, call me Harrie, alright?” she sniffled. “It is _so_ good to see you again, Jack.” After kissing him on the forehead, Harrie tightly enclosed Jack in her arms and he hugged her back just as heartily. As Harrie let go of him, she looked over at Carol and immediately enveloped her in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into Carol's ear.

Carol gave her a kiss on the cheek and replied, “It was the only way I could think of to repay you. For everything.”

“No, Carol, what matters most is that you’re here and doing better and… “

“Um… mum?” 

When she let go, Harrie spun around to face Ted who stood impatiently waiting for some kind of explanation. “Hmmm?” Ted shrugged and silently asked her to clarify. 

Harrie scanned the floor for her glasses that had fallen, squinting to find them by Carol’s feet and bent down to pick them up. She held up the two photographs for Ted, one in each hand, “This,” she said as she waved the oldest of the photos in her left hand, “is from the 1940 World’s Fair in New York. Now if I remember correctly, Carol’s grandfather took the photo, yes?”

“He did,” Carol answered.

“That’s Carol behind me and I’m holding Jack. It was hot as all hell, Jack threw up in the car, and the moment we got home we took - ” Carol nudged her, making Harrie blush and have to pause to clear her throat. “Excuse me. Anyhow… we had a lot of fun that day. Did I mention it was hot? Really, really hot? And then in this photo - from… ” Harrie flipped it over twice to do a double-take regarding the date on it and beamed when she saw it had been taken only two weeks earlier, “... not that long ago - is Jack and Carol, of course, and that simply stunning woman Carol's holding onto, with the lipstick marks on her cheek, that’s Carol’s… “ Harrie smiled as she brushed a curl away from her eyes and asked Carol, “... how is it you referred to her again? It was just the sweetest thing. ”

“My Therese.”

* * *

Friday, May 28th, 1965  
1:35 p.m.

Jack was, without any misgivings to the title, the official, yet unofficial, black sheep of Carol’s sister’s side of the family, or at least a considerable contender whenever his Aunt Carol was included into the mix. While his older brothers were married, had children, lived in spacious Fairfax County homes, and had comfortable government jobs, Jack had finished his Master’s a couple years earlier, worked in his aunt’s furniture store, and was preparing to head to Peace Corps training in the coming months along with Ted. After that, two years in Tunisia with Jack teaching English and Ted joining the Special Medical Program. It was the only time Jack had ever asked a favor of his father and oldest brother, asking them to please make sure he went to Tunisia instead of elsewhere. He never specified why, only said that it was important to him that he go there above anywhere else.

It was hot and miserable in the morning, and Therese had to go to the fairgrounds that day with her interns to get revised stock photos for the on-going World’s Fair write-ups that would appear throughout the summer. She left early in the morning while Carol was still in bed, grumbling about the heat, and said they would see each other after lunch over in Queens.

When Jack came down from his studio upstairs and found his aunt struggling to get ready that morning, wandering around making coffee while wearing only one stocking and with her blouse still unbuttoned, he put his foot down and made an executive decision for them both. 

“Yeah, no, we’re not going to work today, Aunt Carol. We’re going to the shop, putting up a note that says we are closed for all of Memorial Day Weekend, going to a matinee (your pick), then we’re going to the fairgrounds. After that, we’re driving to Greenwich to sit by the pool for four days. You and Therese… you do whatever it is you do… Ted and I… whatever we do. Lunches are independent; dinners, we appoint a specific time each night. End of story.”

“You sound like a tour guide,” she muttered and kissed him on the forehead. Carol didn’t protest. Only walked back to the bedroom, finished her makeup, brushed her hair again and eventually added that second stocking. She put together a small bag with more makeup and clothes, adding a few items for Therese who would probably protest about being away from home, but once floating around the pool with a beer in her hand would be completely happy.

* * *

“Before _Parapluies_ , the last movie I saw there was _Brief Encounter_ in 1946, about a week before I went to France,” Carol said as they walked toward the car. “Funny.”

Jack covered his mouth and yawned, his eyes still watery from crying as he pressed a finger to dab at the corner of his still wet eye. “You have a death wish for sad movies, Aunt Carol. Subtitles make me sleepy and distracted. We can’t all be gifted with an ear like yours.”

“Hush.”

“It makes my heart feel so heavy, and I cried again when Geneviève pulls up to the gas station. It’s snowing and Christmasy… so perfect. She didn’t even have to say anything to Guy. I just… cried. The worst part is I knew it was coming. I knew it was going to happen and I lost it. How can we possibly watch something so sad, so many times? Why have we gone to see that more than once?”

“I wanted to see it again before it leaves the theaters. This isn’t exactly going to be an NBC Saturday Night at the Movies offering.”

“Yes, but why torture yourself like that?”

Carol tried to think of an intelligent answer, something more eloquent than merely saying that she liked it or that the colors of everything in the film were so radiant. She didn’t cry at the movies anymore, not like when she was younger and Heathcliff and Cathy were reunited in the beyond, or Rhett left Scarlett after Melanie died, or Michel went to see Terry in her apartment on Christmas Day. She always had to carry a handkerchief or two in her purse every time she went to the pictures, but she never needed them anymore.

“It’s romantic and… sentimental.” Jack blankly stared back at her, shaking his head. “No? Well, in that case, there is a joy to the sadness in it. I can hear the most melodramatic music and poignant lyrics, but still smile through it all.” Jack still shook his head. “It reminds me of the folly of youth and how much can change in the absence of someone you love.”

“That's it,” he affirmatively nodded. “Or it’s your hormones.”

“Honestly, you sound like Therese.” Once Carol opened the car door, a flood of hot air came out and she rolled her window down and asked Jack if he could roll down his as well before they even stepped foot in the car. “Like a goddamn sauna in here,” Carol muttered as she backed away from the door.

“You want me to drive, Aunt Carol? It’s no problem.”

“No, no. I like driving.”

“I promise not to throw up this time,” he quipped.

* * *

“What time are we meeting Therese?”

Carol looked around for a clock, and when she didn’t see one, reached for Jack’s arm and looked at his watch. “Two-thirty.” Carol linked her arm with Jack’s as they headed toward an empty bench in the middle of the Belgian Village.

“Aunt Carol?”

“Hmmm?”

“I have a question,” Jack began, “and feel free to completely ignore my impertinence, but… why Uncle Harge and not Harrie?” Carol tilted her sunglasses low, just to look Jack in the eye to see his expression. He wasn’t snickering or making any other strange expression, he was generally curious. “I'm just wondering because… I mean, I was thinking about it while we were at the movies. I really like that you and Harrie are friends now. Both me and Ted. But, I mean, she knew about him, right? And he about her? It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m just… curious.”

“No, no, it’s fine, Jack. It’s… it’s just… something I haven’t thought about in a very long time,” she slowly answered. Carol fiddled with her purse and pulled out her cigarette case and lighter. “Would it be alright if I had a cigarette?”

Jack smiled at her. “Of course. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you only pick up a cigarette when you’re nervous. When I was little, you used to smoke non-stop.” Carol held out the opened cigarette case in Jack’s direction. “No thanks.”

Carol picked a cigarette from the middle, and shut the lid so she could tap it against the shiny top. Before she could place it between her lips, Jack took the lighter from her hand to light the cigarette for her. “Thank you. Force of habit, I suppose.”

Jack sat back against the park bench and watched his aunt smoke, saying nothing, almost as though she had decided to ignore the question. Carol calmly sat there with her cigarette, silently reminiscing before beginning to explain anything to her nephew.

“For starters, let’s just get it out of the way that everything with Harriet was entirely my own doing because I was young, foolish, not thinking rationally, and she did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“That seems unlikely, Aunt Carol,” Jack said. “It takes two - “

She took a final drag of her cigarette then dropped the end to the ground where she pressed her foot against it. “I broke her heart when she needed someone the most in her life,” Carol interjected, “and that is something for which I feel deeply ashamed when I loved her so much. Harriet and I had two and a half years together, if I remember correctly. We had lots of time together as a couple, lots of time to get to know each other, learn from each other, and it was very easy to fall in love so quickly and so passionately. Not to mention being young, raging hormones, being in college, on our own for the first time, being young - did I mention that one? Hormones… ”

Jack smiled at her. “You did say that twice.”

“When she left for California, I was heartbroken and missed her terribly. It wasn’t just my girlfriend, I suppose one would say nowadays, who was gone, she was my best friend too. I had other friends at school, but our friendships were more superficial, of convenience of that time and place. At that point, I hadn't seen Abby for a while, so I didn't have her to talk to and even then, she didn't know about me and I wasn’t ready to tell her.

“Harrie was very isolated out there, and that said, it gave her a lot of time to focus on her work and where she was planning to go with her career. Sid and James managed to get back to England on a destroyer from Canada. I know Sid served as a rehabilitation doctor and James… he still can’t disclose whatever the hell he was doing, and then her father was stuck there throughout the war with her grandmother… needless to say, Harrie was very cut off from pretty much everyone. I went to California twice, she came here twice. It was hard. For both of us, but I think especially for her being somewhere new and starting over.

“What it all boiled down to, Jack, was your Uncle Harge and I simply became good friends in Harriet’s absence. He would drive up to school on a Saturday afternoon after classes to meet up with me. Then we’d go out to dinner, the movies, theater… sometimes, he’d take me for a strawberry soda and I’d watch him absolutely demolish a butterscotch nut sundae, like we were a couple of adolescents. It wasn’t until the third or fourth time we went out solely for ice cream that Harge confessed he never had a girlfriend to take out like that when he was younger. I thought it was sweet, I mean, I never had anyone do that for me at that age. Of course with Harriet, we never had to limit our ‘dating’ to being in public like that and we could - “

“Jump right in?”

“Don’t be fresh, Jack, but yes,” she jested. “He was playful, friendly, never pressured me, which I found strange because all the other girls I lived with in college were always talking about that sort of thing. One night he accidentally put his hand on my thigh when we were driving to dinner, and he was so embarrassed and spent about five minutes apologizing. Before the war, he was kind and gentle, soft-spoken even. Come to find out, his parents and his older sister… essentially everyone in his family were just the biggest bullies imaginable to him. He lacked a lot of confidence growing up and even when he was older, into his twenties and even well into his thirties, he had a hard time standing up to them. Always in the shadow of others and told he should do this not that.

“Then after Pearl Harbor, after I came home from school for the Christmas break… Harrie was visiting and we were staying at my parents’ old house in New Jersey to clean and sort things so my father could finally sell the place. One afternoon, just before Christmas, Harrie was out dropping off a box of charity items for some children's home near us and Harge just showed up at the door. He had this terrible habit of frequently appearing from nowhere; I think it was because he was shy about announcing that he would visit, afraid of the rejection or excuses he might get if he let people know he was coming over. The first thing he said was that he'd be boarding a train for California just after New Year's and heading out. Then, came the inevitable.

“I must have stepped completely outside myself and let someone or something take over because I said yes when he asked. I don’t know how Harriet found out - I never asked - however all I know is that when I went looking for her once Harge had left, the car was there, so she had come back, but she was gone. Finally, upstairs, on the desk, I found she left Christmas presents for you and my grandfather, a note for me and... a small box, which to this day I have never opened and is still sitting in a safe deposit over on Lexington.

“We married just after New Year’s, that was the best we could do, given the time frame. He shipped out, and I went back to school. Life continued as normal for me except now I wore a ring on my finger. It felt no different than before. Harge wrote me, I wrote him. I graduated in June. Through a friend of a friend, I got a position teaching history of art for three years at a girls’ school in Greenwich, lived with my grandparents, looked after them, kept busy. His parents hated, positively hated, how I was working, but where Harge didn't stand up to them, I did. My grandmother would constantly ask if I had gotten a letter from Harge, and my grandfather would then boldly follow that up asking if Harrie had written me. ‘No, Harge,’ my grandmother would shout to him, and he’d yell back, ‘I know what I said, Margaret!’ It wasn’t funny at the time because I thought with his stroke that perhaps he would say something, but in retrospect, I laugh because he knew what he was saying and she had no idea. Every time, I would have to answer no, then silently go about what I was doing or excuse myself from the table.

“When Harge came home, I didn’t recognize him. He never talked about the war, always kept that to himself. He was in the Pacific for four years, no clue what kind of terrible things he saw or experienced. I don’t think I can possibly begin to imagine what went on and I didn't press him. He didn’t get out of bed for almost a week, didn’t even come near me at all, which didn’t entirely bother me. He drank more and required a chauffeur to get him around on a daily basis, he was short with everyone, he was increasingly possessive. He was changed. There were other things I oughtn't go into that were also alarmingly… problematic. Things he said that made me feel awful about myself. Things he did...

“The first month back, I suggested going out for ice cream, like old times, and all he shouted back at me was, ‘Now why the fuck would I want to do that, Carol?’ I lost touch with friends. I had to quit my job, which was the school's issue not his, because I was married. I was becoming isolated. That was when it hit me the most that I had perhaps made a huge mistake because had I gone to California with Harriet as planned, I'd still have been 'Miss’ and able to do anything I wanted. I might have had to answer, ‘you’re so beautiful, why aren’t you married?’ about every other day, but I’d have a stock reply to that after the tenth time or so and eventually, people would cease asking.

“After a year, I couldn't take his behavior anymore, so I went to Paris to study art and… I was me again on my own. I had time to reflect on what had happened, where things were going. During the war, I had work and was teaching, so was able to just get through everything, day-by-day and not really think about my actions. I had a few friends there - even one of my former French professors from college who, let’s just say knew about me from before - and it was one of the happiest times of my life. Then in June of ‘47, Harge came to visit for a few weeks, convinced me to go home with him for a month or so and… that's when Abby and I decided to start the furniture store and I became pregnant with Rindy… and everything just kind of fell apart. Or was it into place? Either way, I definitely wanted to have a baby, but not exactly at that moment.”

“Is ‘starting a furniture store’ a euphemism?” 

“In this instance, yes,” she smirked. “After Rindy was born, Harge calmed a bit and overall was so excited he had a daughter and his own little family. It was like he finally got that control he always wanted, his own little castle and kingdom to rule. When I'd finally had enough of lying to myself and asked for a divorce, he got extremely jealous, more controlling, more intrusive; possibly the most petulant child you had ever met. I got more and more isolated. He fucking told his lawyer about Abby and Therese and… how it all started with Harriet, how that had gone on for years before we were even married. Harge wanted to have a good, happy home unlike the one he grew up in. The only thing he succeeded in was making it an unhappy home and an unhealthy situation for everyone involved.”

Carol reached back into her purse for her cigarette case, but before she could pull it out, Jack extended his hand to stop her. “No, don't. It's okay,” Jack said. “I promised Aunt Therese, 'no more than one,’ so don’t get me in trouble here.” Carol dropped the case back into her purse and tightly shut it to not be tempted by its contents.

“For you, Rindy, and Therese, alright?”

Jack nodded and relaxed back into the bench, crossing his leg over his knee and brushing back his hair.

“Before Harge passed away, we talked about it because only when the cancer began to spread did he finally stop holding back with his family. He was adamant about Rindy coming to live with Therese and me, and not having her raised by his parents or his sister. We became friends again in those final months, and he came to terms with his horrible behavior in those years we were married. In fact, the last time I saw him, we went to this drugstore around the corner from the apartment. He was terribly sweet and asked Therese’s permission to take me out; she said it would be fine as long as he had me home by ten. He got his butterscotch nut sundae and me, my strawberry soda. And we sat there, together, like old times, and aside from when Rindy was born, I can’t say I ever saw him happier than he was that day.”

Carol opened her purse again, this time to find one of her seldom-used handkerchiefs, and retrieved one from the bottom. She dabbed her eyes and took a deep breath she composed herself. 

Jack was quiet, his hands gripping the edge of the bench and his eyes focused on gazing into the crowds. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, Jack. I could easily say to you, ‘don’t make the same mistakes I did,’ but I could never tell you that because they never really were mistakes to begin with. What some, or what I might have interpreted as ‘mistakes,’ those I have loved and lost, they are actually how I got to now. And, Jack, I'm not ashamed to admit that I would not change any of it for the world, otherwise, I wouldn't have Therese and she means the world to me.”

Carol went back into her purse to get her wallet where she pulled out three old pictures and held them out for Jack. “I always carry around this photo of you when you were little - last time at the World's Fair here; right next to this one of Rindy when she was about four, and this one of Therese around the time we first met.” 

Jack picked up the photo and inspected it for a moment, remembering his aunt showing him the image of the two of them together years earlier. He chuckled before reaching for his own billfold from his jacket pocket and pulled out four pictures. “I always carry all these around,” he said waving them in his hands. “This one of you, me, and Therese before I started at Choate is one of my favorites. It was lunchtime out on the terrace, middle of the week. I set up a little picnic, Therese came home, ate half a sandwich, fell asleep against you, then you woke her up by kissing her face all over.”

“What can I say? She can fall asleep anytime, anywhere.”

“And this one of me, Ted, Harrie, and Jo at a Red Sox game. Harrie had wicked awful sunburn - “

“Goddammit,” Carol disapprovingly shook her head, “I told her twenty-some-odd years ago to watch how she talks around you so you don't pick up her habits.”

“It's infectious.”

“Sounds like you should probably make an appointment with Dr. Ted.”

“He’s probably the one I got it from, not Harrie,” Jack replied. “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of Harrie, when I saw her last weekend, she specifically told me to tell you that she got arrested in Alabama a couple months ago. I don’t know why she’d tell me to tell you that - “

Carol laughed, “I do, and am still, not in the least bit surprised. Make sure you keep some bail money handy for Ted.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Ask Harriet.”

“You two are so strange sometimes.” Jack said, shaking his head, then returned his attention to the pictures they were looking at. “Remember this?” He held up a photo from the winter of 1959 with Rindy making snowballs and passing them to Ted who was busy pelting Carol and Therese across a walkway. 

“He’s always had a wicked good _ahm_ ,” Carol teased, vaguely remembering taking a snowball to her lower back.

He put down all but one photograph he had been hanging onto and then held it up. “Okay, you know what photo this is, Aunt Carol.”

“The one that used to be in the back of your copy of _The Hobbit_?” Carol hadn’t seen the photo of her, Jack, and Harrie together in twelve years, since that day at school when it fell out of Jack’s book. She was amazed looking at the image of herself from twenty-five years earlier, still in awe of how carefree they were.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jack said. “You still look exactly the same. You both do.”

Carol pinched him. “I’m not that vain.” She continued to examine the photo, scanning the details of the image from the clothes they wore to the brightness of the sun in the background. She recalled all the times she had seen the picture and what it meant to her every instance she had seen it over the past twenty years. “Do you realize, Jack, that this - “ she tapped on the stack of photos beside her, “ - this is where all of this started?”

Jack understood and nodded. “All of you have made me who I am.”

If Aunt Carol had moved to California and stayed with Harrie, she’d have never married Uncle Harge.

If she had never married Uncle Harge, they would have never had Rindy.

If they never had Rindy, Aunt Carol would have never gone into Frankenberg’s looking for a present.

If she had never gone into Frankenberg’s that Christmas, Aunt Carol would have never met Aunt Therese, standing behind the doll counter where she had left her gloves.

If she had never met Therese, they would have never gone on the road trip that winter where they fell in love.

If they hadn't fallen in love, Aunt Carol would never have moved out and left a forwarding address with the groundskeepers in Ridgewood and Greenwich, who in turn gave it to Harrie when she stopped by the house in Connecticut.

If Carol hadn’t given the groundskeeper her new address, Harrie wouldn’t have known where to write and ask if they could meet for lunch while she was in town for the month.

If Harrie hadn’t known where to write, Carol would have never met up with Harrie that day and told Harrie that her nephew was starting at Choate in September.

If she had never told Harrie about Jack, Harrie would never have tried to nudge Ted toward one school over another, and Aunt Carol wouldn’t have called the form dean, pleading to pair up Jack and Ted as roommates that first year.

If she hadn’t phoned the dean, Jack and Ted wouldn’t have been rooming together that first year, then every year after that.

And _they_ wouldn’t have fallen in love.

* * *

“Hey!” Jack looked up to see Ted scurrying towards them, each hand carrying a Belgian waffle smothered in strawberries and cream. At well over six feet, Ted was already a head above everyone and as he got closer, he could see Therese's cheerful face as well, also carrying waffles. “Yeah, you two hot blondes over on that bench. Look what we got!”

Therese sat next to Carol on the bench, passing her one of the waffles in her hands. “For you, just how you like it: Powdered sugar and berries.”

Carol smiled as she took her waffle from her, “Thank you, darling.” She took a bite, never taking her eyes off Therese, and with her lips faintly covered in powdered sugar, leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, where a dusty outline of her lips and sugar left a mark by her dimple. “I love you. Did I tell you that already today?”

“Four times, but I never get tired of hearing it. You been having a good time?”

Carol lifted her sunglasses to rest on top of her head and smiled. “I’ve been having the most lovely time catching up with Jack here.”

“Oh, I almost forgot...” Therese quickly handed her waffle to Carol to hold and stood, walking directly up to Jack to give him a kiss on the cheek. “That's from me,” she said then shifted to kiss the other cheek, “and that's from Teddy.”

Carol smiled when she saw what Therese did, and repeated the same gesture for Ted. “This is from Jack,” she grinned, then quickly frowned and smacked his arm, “and that's from me for teaching my nephew to say ‘wicked’ all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1W22Ub-4L-4) for _Les Parapluies de Cherbourg_ (1964) dir. Jacques Demy.


	14. The Third Man

Saturday, April 5th, 1930  
5:37 p.m.

“Carol? Come down for dinner.”

The house had been almost too quiet without her mother. Even more so without Elaine. She didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but to Carol, it had been perfect. Just her father and herself. Sometimes, Abby, who came over to play or have lunch with them after school. All of the house staff excused while Elaine and her mother were gone, almost too good to be true. To where, no one really said. Now that they had returned early, Carol’s mother was in an uproar about the state of the house and, of course, her youngest daughter.

With her book, pillow, and flashlight in hand, Carol crawled out from underneath the bed in the guest room and brushed off her clothes, going in search of her mother’s shouting.

“Good God in Heaven, what are are you wearing?” her mother shrieked as soon as she walked down the staircase.

Carol looked down and shrugged, “It’s my riding outfit,” scuffing the toe of the dirty black sneakers she wore as she reached the bottom step, “well, most of it.”

“You call that dressing for dinner?”

“I wore it out earlier with Daddy and when the census man stopped in.”

That did it.

Carol’s mother turned to her father and smacked his arm. “Did you let her go out of the house like this? You let others see her looking like this?”

“She looks fine, Gertie. Carol, myself, and the little neighbor girl Abby only went to the automat and the pictures - “

“You probably took them to see some filthy picture at that.” _Pandora’s Box_ wasn’t that filthy, Carol told herself, not offering up to her mother what they had gone to see and how much she enjoyed watching Louise Brooks dance with another woman at a wedding ceremony. “I leave her with you for two weeks, no servants, no help, trusting that you would look after her properly and not have her running around like a hooligan.”

“I did ‘look after her properly’ as you put it.”

“Wearing pants!”

“They’re jodhpurs, for Christ’s sake. She wears they all the time when she goes riding and when she’s playing outside. At least they cover her knees unlike those silly dresses she keeps outgrowing. She’s about four inches taller than the other girls already… if you even bothered to notice.”

“Not when going out. What will… it’s bad enough with Elaine… “ Shaking her head and reaching to straighten the bow in Carol’s bobbed hair, she sighed, “Oh, Carol, you were so pretty when you were little. Why can’t you be pretty like you used to be?” then turned back to belittle her father.

Carol stood there, seen and not heard as always instructed, waiting for her parents to stop arguing about her, as though she wasn’t even present in the room with them. They weren’t going to stop. They were never going to stop arguing like that. And she would never stop making comments about how she dressed when she was home. Undetected, she slinked away, toward the kitchen to fix herself a sandwich. She figured her mother would send her to bed without supper, so she could at least try to avoid being hungry all night by preemptively stockpiling a couple sandwiches and a box of animal crackers in her room.

By the time she finished making the second sandwich and wrapped it in wax paper, Carol could still hear her parents arguing in the hallway. As soon as she was old enough to realize that all they ever seemed to do was argue, Carol simply started walking away whenever it happened. Usually, her father would come up to her afterward and apologize, feeling terribly that his youngest child was always exposed to their bickering. Sadly, Carol was accustomed to hearing the apologies from him by the age of six and merely let all of the explanations and excuses brush by her as they'd become meaningless. She pressed the kitchen light off and walked toward the staircase, hearing her mother still fuss at her father.

“Gertie, you deal with Elaine. I will handle Carol, and my advice is: Just leave her be.”

“Easy for you,” her mother scoffed. “At this rate, I don’t think we’ll have the same problem we did with her sister.”

Carol walked up the stairs, two at a time, completely ignoring her mother’s remark, not understanding what she meant and shrugging it off like she did with most of her mother’s comments. Standing outside her bedroom door was Elaine, holding a baby girl in her arms and softly singing, wondering what the commotion was downstairs that had interrupted her. Looking at her sister and then the baby, Carol held out one of the sandwiches without any expression on her face, figuring she was probably in trouble as well with it being so early in the evening and her already in her pajamas. Elaine shook her head, declining the sandwich which Carol then stacked atop the other wrapped sandwich. “Congratulations,” she offered as she walked into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Tuesday, April 2nd, 1940  
10:15 a.m.

It was moments like this where Harrie was exceedingly grateful she had a column on that old four-poster bed to grip whenever Carol teased with her lips and fingers. Harrie had already spent part of the early morning doing the same for Carol, who at this point was already dressed, had already opened the curtains, was all set to go out; Harrie, though, coaxed her back to bed, pulling away the blankets and spreading her thighs, inviting Carol back to where she knew was her favorite spot to lay her head. Of course, Carol couldn't resist, not when she could see how badly Harrie wanted her back there, and encouraged her to flip around and grasp one of the posts at the foot of the bed.

“Hang onto that.” She watched Harrie hold tightly to the bedpost and ready herself. “So don't you dare touch my hair,” Carol ordered before she started. 

Not ten minutes later, Carol had forgotten all about her earlier request as Harrie started running her fingers through Carol’s now mess of blonde curls as she could never keep her hands from having some kind of contact with her when she made her feel that way.

Except when the doorbell started to ring. Repeatedly.

“Ignore it,” Carol pleaded as she alternated kissing and nibbling the sides of Harrie’s breasts.

“They keep ringing. It could be important.” 

“The only thing that’s important is you naked in this bed getting kissed by me.”

Harrie propped herself up as the doorbell rang a third time. “You’re mostly dressed, please go check. What if it’s something with Sid or my Dad?”

Carol chided herself for being selfish, not thinking it could be something serious with someone in her family. “I’m sorry, darling, I’ll go.” She jumped off the bed, slipped on the nearest pair of shoes she could find, and bolted down the stairs, fixing her hair and adjusting her skirt she moved.

As she reached the door, it hit her. They were simply pelted with it every time they went to the pictures over the past month, reminding all the cinemagoers that they should expect someone to come knocking on their door starting April 1st.

Before she could open the door, Carol walked back up to the staircase to shout up the two flights of stairs, “Harriet?” 

“Everything okay?”

“Get dressed. The fellow from the census is here.”

Carol heard a groan and a succession of obscenities, laughing all the way back to the front door. 

“Good morning, I am looking for the Head of Household. Is your husband in?”

Carol looked him up and down, tucking a curl behind her ear. “ _She_ is in, but, obviously she's not my husband. Miss Lovell will be down in a moment though. Please, come in.” 

As Harrie bounded down the staircase, Carol was extremely grateful the enumerator was too preoccupied with setting up his papers and uncapping his pen to take down the information. There was no way she could possibly hidden the grin on her face while watching Harrie stroll into the room wearing Carol's crewneck sweater inside-out without a bra and a skirt with no stockings, only socks and Carol's moccasins. She couldn't be sure until they went back upstairs, but Carol was fairly certain Harrie had nothing else on beneath that as well once she watched her enter the room.

“Alright, who resides at this address as of today?”

“Ah, well, there’s me. Uh, Harriet Jane Lovell.” Harrie took a seat by the table and tilted her head as the enumerator readied his pen and watched as he started writing her information. He made a small X on the sheet next to Harrie’s name and then circled the X. “Miss, I should add.”

“Your middle name’s Jane?” Carol asked.

Harrie smiled. “It is.”

“Age at last birthday?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And you’re Head of Household?”

“Yes.” 

The enumerator gave her an incredulous look, as though a residence like that could possibly belong to someone so young. “This is _your_ home? You own or rent?”

“Own, and it's mine as of my twenty-first.”

“Have you attended school at any time since March 1st of this year?”

“Yes.”

“Highest grade of school completed?”

“Um, third year of college.”

“Where were you born?”

“Harrogate.” Harrie paused when she realized the enumerator had no idea where that was. “Er, England,” she clarified.

“Are you - “

“Naturalized citizen.”

“And her name?” He pointed with the tip of his pen in Carol’s direction.

Harrie looked over at Carol, sitting quietly on the opposite couch with her arms and her ankles crossed as she answered all of the questions. “Her name is Carol Alice Ross. Miss. Nineteen. One year of college completed. Born in Washington State. Anything else?”

“Yes, one more question: Does she reside here?”

Carol started to shake her head, but Harrie jumped in, “She lives here.”

He gave them a look and continued to fill in the blanks of the schedule. “Are you a lodger then, Miss Ross?”

“Lodger,” Harrie interjected. “Rents. Fifteen dollars a month plus meals and utilities.”

“Is there anyone else who resides at this address who is not presently here?” Harrie paused, thinking of her brother and James, realizing it would probably be best to leave them off the list, and simply shook her head no in reply. “Are there any babies here?”

Harrie chuckled, crossing her arms and sitting back on the sofa with a smug smile. The enumerator wasn't laughing however. “Definitely no babies here, sir,” she finally replied in a more serious tone.

“Well, that will speed things up, won’t it?” 

Harrie smiled back. “Usually does.”

“Now, during the past year, have you or Miss Ross received income of fifty dollars or more from sources other than wages or salary?”

“Yes. Must I specify?”

Before he could continue, Carol asked if anyone would like tea and cake. She didn’t want to have to listen to Harrie spout off a bunch of numbers and details about the house in front of her, figuring occupying herself with brewing tea (per Harrie’s instructions) would be much more interesting.

Forty minutes later, while they were upstairs getting ready to get back into bed rather than go out for the day, Carol poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on top of the dresser. “You could have stayed while I was giving him all that housing information, Carol.” Harrie shook her hips back and forth to draw her skirt down her legs.

“Yes, but I didn’t really have to know that you spent eighty dollars on coal last year.”

“But now you do know,” she said as she pulled back the covers and jumped back into bed. “Besides, between you and me, we can perhaps reduce that down to fifty dollars with the body heat we generate and then put that thirty dollars into savings towards moving to California. And in California, we'd have very little to spend on heating… “

Harrie could be so charming and silly sometimes, making Carol laugh. Carol finished her glass of water, then strolled over to her side of the bed to turn the radio on low, flipping through until there was a clear station playing music. “I did - like - that you were able to answer all of that about me,” Carol said trying to hide the redness of her cheeks. “You know me quite well, it seems.”

With a nod of her head, Harrie agreed, then remembering the piece of paper sitting on the bedside table near her. “Say, Sid asked me to ask you if you could please translate something into Italian for him.”

“Anything, what does he need?”

Harrie stumbled over the words and looked off to the side to where the list sat folded up by an empty water glass. “Oh, it’s a very short list of some do’s and don’ts.”

“‘Do’s and don’ts’?” Carol asked, scrunching her brow. “What for?”

“Sometimes when making house calls,” Harrie began, “he has the occasional patient over in the North End. It’s just helpful to have a list of common medical issues and concerns translated into Italian for relations and friends who don't speak English.”

“That’s thoughtful of him, certainly,” offered Carol, skimming the list noting easy things to translate like “no baths or swimming for one month” or “do not take aspirin” or “no sexual relations or tampon use for three weeks - one month if possible.” She nodded her head, remarking, “This will be easy, I'll do it when I wake up.”

“You're a peach.”

She smiled watching Harrie pull the bedcovers up around her and get comfortable. Carol began to remove her sweater, and before she could lift it over her head asked, “Why on earth did you tell the census fellow I live here? Not that I minded.”

“I dunno, it just kinda came out. I suppose I like having that schedule show two women are living here, together, without a man or a husband. Even if you are listed as ‘lodger.’ I mean,” Harrie answered, “not like anyone will even see these sheets until, I dunno, the 2010s or something. It’ll make a neighborhood like this look a whole lot more interesting to someone in the future.” 

“Don't let me forget, if we're still kicking, I'm writing to the Census Bureau for a copy of your shenanigans,” Carol ordered. 

“I won’t.” 

“You could have said ‘companion.’”

“Pffft… we’re not in our eighties and living in Portsmouth with our eighteen cats and a budgie with an annual flagpole painting party bursting with prep school and college alumnae.” 

Harrie patted the space on the bed by the pillow, impatiently waiting for Carol to join her again. “Give me a second, would ya?” she laughed, “you threw on two pieces of clothing while I was fully dressed and ready to go out for the day.”

Harrie glanced at the pile of clothing sitting on the chair by the door. “The look on your face… “

“You weren't wearing a brassiere, Harriet, darling. Remembering I just had my mouth there as the doorbell so rudely rang. How could I not?” Carol climbed into bed, finally divested of clothing and propped herself up with her elbow to look down at Harrie, resting flat on her back with her eyes closed and grinning. “You know how much I love your breasts,” she muttered before settling in. She leaned forward unable to resist placing a kiss on each breast, curled so close to her like that, and Harrie moved her head so that it was close enough to press her lips to the bend of Carol’s arm. “How many girls have you gone steady with?”

“‘Gone steady with?’ Are you doing a census of a sexual nature now?” she smiled and opened one eye to see Carol's expression, noting that she hadn't been joking, and wasn't trying to pry. There was a general look of curiosity on her face. Before replying, she closed that one eye and continued smiling. “Just one other, my Freshman year.”

“Only one? Who?”

“She was from Pittsburgh originally, and… older. Eight years older, actually. And, yes, only one.”

“Eight years?” Carol scrunched her brow. “Was she - “

“Yes, she was… “ Harrie shifted herself closer to Carol. “Seems like forever ago now I think about it.”

“Is she… still teaching at school?”

“No, she left after my Freshman year.”

“What department?”

Harrie paused, shutting her eyes as she spoke and sighed, “French.” Carol couldn't help but laugh as she placed her head on the pillow beside Harrie and kissed her cheek. “You linguistically gifted ladies… “

“ _You_ have a type, Harriet.”

“I can’t help it! I think all of you gravitate toward languages and the arts.”

“Yes, the Western Massachusetts Chapter convenes together each Thursday, and it's so popular we're starting a Main Line Chapter for 1940-1941. Honestly though, it's all just an excuse to look at tasteful female nudes and to practice rolling our r’s. You know, the letter r? It’s part of the alphabet.”

“Don’t know it,” Harrie teased. “Anyways, it ended badly between us and she… she got married and moved to Ohio.”

“I’m sorry.”

Harrie shook her head and shut her eyes again. “It’s fine. We weren't in the same place. It had run its course, you know?” She opened her eyes to see Carol blankly staring back at her. “Maybe you don’t know.”

“What was her name?”

“Evelyn. So many questions this morning!” Harrie said, reaching over to tickle her. Carol laughed and brushed her hands away, pushing one of Harrie’s hands behind her back and holding it there as she pulled herself closer to Harrie. 

“No boys?”

“You have to ask?” Harrie snickered. “No, never. Your turn.”

As she straddled Harrie and angled her hips to meet hers a couple times before answering, Carol softly moaned then whispered into her ear, “Only you.”

* * *

Sunday, April 9th, 1950  
7:45 p.m.

“Aunt Carol?” Jack whispered as he tapped Carol's shoulder. Rindy looked up out of her crib at her mother who despite having gotten her changed and ready for bed, had herself fallen asleep instead.

“Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!” Rindy happily shouted, still not waking Carol. Uncle Harge had already left and no one else was helping her mind Rindy. Except for Jack, it seemed. Rindy should have already been asleep, she was far too awake for that time of evening.

“Shhhhh,” said Jack, raising his finger to his lips, causing Rindy to mimic the same gesture. He looked around the room to see if there was anything to read to her, finding a small stack of his own old children's books on the bottom shelf. He knew his aunt always packed some books for her, but he didn't know where she kept them and didn't really want to go rifling through her bags. The first book on the pile was _Make Way for Ducklings_. He remembered that one: it was one of his favorites when he was little. He always wondered what had happened to that copy he had, realizing he had left it in the guest room for some reason. “I'll be right back, Rindy, wait a sec.”

Jack scurried to his bedroom, quickly putting on his pajamas, pulling his sleeping bag usually reserved for Boy Scouts trips from the closet, and gathered his book, flashlight, and pillow together to go back to the guest room at the other end of the house. While rushing back, he passed his parents, bickering with each other about something he didn't understand, completely missing their youngest son walking past them in the hallway with his arms filled and clearly up to something.

Once back in the guest room, Rindy began joyously muttering Jack's name again and although he did his best to keep her quiet, she didn't want to stop. He set up his sleeping bag, turned off the light and quickly lit his flashlight in case Rindy was afraid of the dark. He picked up Rindy and sat her down atop the sleeping bag, then fluffed his pillow to lean against and pulled Rindy onto his lap along with the book.

“This is about a family of ducks looking for a home. Do you know what sound a duck makes?” Jack started to make a quacking sound and she immediately began to imitate him. “That's right, Rindy.”

When he opened the book and saw inside, he was surprised to see handwriting on the inner cover, an inscription cascading down the first page of the inside, following the path of many drawings of a baby duck hatching from its egg:

_Merry Christmas 1941 to our darling Jack, the sweetest Duckling._  
_Love, Aunt Harriet & Aunt Carol_

The handwriting was familiar, it was crisper than his aunt’s and recognized it from the inside of his copy of _The Hobbit_ , a patch of writing that had been pasted over with a bookplate. He did note that his aunt's name was signed in her own hand. Jack then remembered his Aunt Carol telling him about a Harriet a few years earlier, about them at the World's Fair when he was probably around Rindy's age. He hadn't picked up the book in years and now that he saw it, recognizing the name and piecing the few details he had together, smiled.

As Jack began to read, Rindy calmed listening to his voice, still pointing at the pictures of the baby ducks as he turned the pages. “'One day the ducklings hatched out. First came Jack… ‘ hey, that's me! Quack, quack, quack!” Rindy giggled as he made the quacking sounds. “What's the duckling’s name?”

“Jack!”

“Very good!” He resumed reading the names of the other ducklings and tried to get Rindy to pronounce them, but she instead kept saying “Jack” each time. The only other duck name she was able to say was Quack, however Jack couldn't be sure if she was saying it as the duck's name or trying to make the sound. The names did kind of all sound alike, he rationalized. Jack then looked up to see his aunt had flipped around on the bed, resting on her stomach to watch him read aloud. He smiled back at Carol as he continued reading to Rindy.

By the time Jack finished, Rindy was nearly asleep and even Carol was barely hanging on. He placed Rindy in the crib then looked over at the book on the sleeping bag before turning his attention to his aunt. “Tired?” he asked in a low voice.

“Very. She loves it when you read to her. Thank you, Jack.”

“You want me to read to you too?” 

“Sure, what do you have?”

He held up one book in each hand to show his weary aunt. “Either _Make Way for Ducklings_ again or _Cheaper By the Dozen_.”

“Let's go with _Cheaper By the Dozen_ ; I’ve been wanting to read that before I see the movie.” Jack picked up the book and asked his aunt if he could sit up on the bed. “You're almost getting too old for this.”

“You're sleepy, Aunt Carol. Never too old to be read to.”

Before Jack got up onto the bed, Carol tilted her head, noticing Jack had brought in his sleeping bag and was already in his pajamas. “What are your parents up to?”

Jack was quiet and instead looked over at Rindy in the crib rather than make eye contact with his aunt. “Last I saw, they were at it again in the hallway, and not the ‘hide your eyes’ at it, but the ‘cover your ears’ at it.” Carol’s shoulders slumped as she leaned back against the pillows, putting her arm around Jack’s shoulder. “It’s been even worse with my brothers gone.”

“Relationships shouldn't be yelling and shouting at one another. They shouldn't be like that.” Carol pointed to the book in Jack’s hand. “May I?” Carol flipped over the book to scan the back cover for a description, but didn't find one. Instead, she found an entire back dustjacket devoted to the authors’ biographical information. “Huh. We went to the same college.”

“Did you know her?”

“No, she graduated several years before me.”

“You could write a book.”

Carol laughed. “About what?”

“I dunno. I'm sure you got stories. People you've met, places you've been, stuff you've done.”

“'Stuff’?” Carol smiled. Jack simply nodded his head and opened the book, starting to read.

Friday, April 14th, 1950  
8:15 a.m.

As Carol opened the curtains, she noticed her husband still in bed, rolled onto his side and facing her to observe every single thing she was looked at or touched. Carol couldn't stand the pair of eyes on her every movement and finally turned around with her hands on her hips. “Harge, don’t you have to go to work?”

“Maybe… “

“Harge… “

“Come on. How often is it I’m home on a weekday morning like this?”

“Harge… “

“Come on, Carol… it’s been, like, over three weeks. And I head out tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, acting as though she hadn’t mentally been adding the days to the imaginary _It's been XX days without coitus with Harge_ sign over the bed, “has it really been that long?”

“Uh huh.”

Carol groaned. Not that Harge could hear as he was too busy rustling with the sheets so he could pull his pajama top over his head. “I have to go check on Rindy, I’ll be - “

“Rindy’s out with Florence. I had her take her to the market this morning so we could have some time to ourselves.”

“So, you’ve had this planned?”

“Uh huh.”

Carol groaned again, walking over to the nightstand to get a tissue to blot the lipstick she had just applied. This time, Harge couldn’t hear her as he was taking off his pajama bottoms in a frenzy. She could easily say no and make some excuses for the next forty-five five minutes, but that wouldn't stop Harge from trying again before lunch and probably after lunch if he intended on staying home all day. 

She could say she just put clean sheets on the bed.

But then he'd just have Florence put new ones on later, as if that wouldn't be embarrassing enough when he had already purposely sent her away for the morning.

She could say she had her period, but she used that excuse the week before, and then the week before that.

Not like he actually kept track or anything.

Or, she could take ten minutes to just let him do what he wanted to do, roll off her, fall asleep, and then spend another ten minutes cleaning herself up. Ten minutes of her time that would put him practically into a sleep coma until lunchtime and he wouldn't bother her for the rest of the day, possibly another couple of weeks. 

Maybe less than ten minutes if she was lucky.

However, she'd have to reset the imaginary sign above her bed. 

And it was getting so close to having double digits beginning with the number three, too, she thought.

But the stubble against her face and neck would grate on her nerves even more.

Not as though it could get any worse...

Not like he knew anyways.

Carol gave in, disapprovingly sighing, again, not audible to Harge's ears, and walked toward the window to draw the curtains. The neighbors never could see in, however the darkened room always helped her get through any brief daylight-hour encounters they had. As she stood at the window, begrudgingly beginning to unbutton her blouse, out of the corner of her eye, she looked at herself in the mirror, noticing how her breasts were just beginning to strain against her shirt and ache, exactly as they had with Rindy.

An unfamiliar car pulled up the driveway and its passenger carrying a large case got out. Carol never thought she would be so overjoyed to see a solicitor come by the house. Although she expected a man to get out of the car, she was pleasantly surprised to see it was a woman carrying oversized books and folders as well as a briefcase. Not an Avon Lady, but a census lady.

“Someone's here, Harge,” Carol said as she hurriedly started to rebutton her blouse, faintly smiling. She checked herself in the bathroom mirror, making sure her hair hadn’t been too mussed up as she went about tidying the room. Before exiting the bathroom, she pulled a jar from the medicine cabinet which she then placed by the side of the bed where Harge had now turned away from, most likely pouting.

After Carol provided the enumerator with all of their household details and offered tea and cookies, she wandered back upstairs, not having heard a peep from Harge the entire time. 

Never before was she so happy to have spotted her husband sound asleep in her bed, snoring loudly, drooling onto a pillow, and his pajamas strewn about the floor beside the bed. Smirking, she walked into the bathroom to pick up the trash can from beneath the sink, and returned to the bedroom to clear the mess of items from the bedside table that hadn't been there before she went downstairs. Holding the bin to the edge of the nightstand, Carol swiped her arm across the top, causing the mostly empty jar of Vaseline and several wadded up tissues to fall into the basket.

Sometimes, it was just one strategically placed, seemingly insignificant item that got Carol the desired outcome.

Sunday, April 16th, 1950  
4:26 a.m.

As quietly as possible, Harrie removed her clothing and pulled back the blankets, stopping to look at Carol, taking note that she wore a pair of striped men's pajamas. Harrie instantly recognized them as the ones Carol had given her years earlier for her birthday, ones where she had the initials “HL” monogrammed in a light coral thread onto the pocket. Harrie's heart raced as she crawled into the large four-poster bed, careful not to press herself too closely against her and placed an arm high above her stomach, resting beneath her breasts. She unbuttoned the middle button of the pajama top, creating a space wide enough to slide her hand into to keep warm and make contact with her soft skin.

“Hmmm… you're here.”

“I am.”

Carol angled her head back and kissed her. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed waking up like this.” She cracked open one eye for a second then and raised a hand to rub the one still shut as she yawned. She couldn't stop yawning and moving her hips around, cracking her ankles and stretching her legs which felt far too cramped after sleeping in the same spot for the past sixteen hours.

“Go back to sleep, gorgeous, it's early.”

12:26 p.m.

To Carol, the bed felt comfortable and familiar, the way the mattress curled to support her lower back and the pressure from the springs against the tops of her shoulders. It had been at least a decade since Carol had slept in that bed, nonetheless she somehow had found the same spot she had always slept in; whether she realized it or not. The blanket was comfortable, fluffy and soft, maintaining the warmth to keep her lower body particularly toasty since it didn't feel like she had anything on. The smell… Carol knew that smell as she tilted her head against the pillow to breathe in a scent that had always relaxed her instantly, but that scent was heavily masked by what smelled like cooking.

“Sid and Jamie had to leave, so they asked me to come to stay with you.” Harrie speaking roused Carol from her sleep. Harrie was now dressed in an oversized pair of pajamas, probably her brother's or James’ that had been left the house. Carol looked down noting she had been wearing Harrie's clothes, instantly feeling guilty for having them on, despite not knowing how they got there in the first place. Her arm remained draped over her middle, high enough not to put pressure anywhere too low, hand still tucked inside the shirt.

“But - “

“Some other time,” Harrie said as she removed her hand so Carol could turn over to face her. “We're not gonna talk about all that. I'm not gonna ask you anything; I don't wanna know what you've been doing, how you've been, nothing. No thoughts, no feelings, no reminiscing, nothing. If I ask how you feel at any time, know it is only in relation to here and now, nothing else. And you're not to ask me a single thing. We'll save all of that for some other time and place. Not now.”

Carol nodded and looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but coldness despite the warm arm across middle. It frightened her, especially since Harrie had always been one of the most cheerful people she had ever met, and not seeing that smile on her face instantly upset her, and made her stomach queasy. “You don't want to be here.”

“That's not true.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I said no questions.” Pouting, Carol inched away and began to turn her back to Harrie; however, as she pulled away from her and angled her hips, there was a twinge of pain and she reached down to massage below her waist to subdue the cramping. Harrie felt badly for snapping at her and fussing straight off the bat, softening when she saw Carol cringe, but didn't try to apologize. 

“Is there any aspirin?”

Harrie shook her head. “You can’t have that: It’s a blood thinner. I can make a pot of ginger tea or have a toasty hot water bottle ready.”

“I can get that myself.”

“No, you’re not to move,” she ordered as she got up. “Bed rest for at least another eight hours. Maybe tonight we can get you in the shower for a bit.” As she passed by the dresser, Harrie motioned her head toward the tray, a plate of something covered with a shiny silver lid. “There’s some steak and kidney pie for you.”

“I won't have you waiting on me.”

Harrie was getting perturbed at how noble Carol was trying to be and she tried hard not to let it show. “Eat. Protein, iron, all that good stuff. You’ve had nothing since Saturday morning as I understand.” She stood and walked to the bathroom across the hall to let the tap warm, letting the running water get as hot as possible. When filled, Harrie returned and lifted the blanket to apply it to Carol's lower abdomen. Carol hurriedly untied the pajama bottoms and removed them, then let Harrie pass her the water bottle. After fifteen seconds and a pleasant moan from Carol, she commented, “That should be better.”

“Thanks.” Carol looked back up toward the tray and again to the bed, saying nothing. With her stomach now less irritated and less upset by Harrie's demeanor, it grumbled just thinking about the food, remembering how Harrie always made the most delicious savory pies, something she could never manage to replicate in her own kitchen. “When did you find time… Sorry, that was a question.”

Harrie sat down on the bed and placed the tray beside Carol, moving the glass of water to the more stable nightstand. It was then Carol noticed how much space she had been taking up and shifted over a few inches more. “I just realized I'm probably keeping you from your own bed.”

“Sid thought - I thought - you'd be most comfortable in this bed. I told him to have James carry you in here.”

“I can move.”

“No,” Harrie firmly said and finally broke a smile, “but you ought to make some more room for me there later because I'm not supposed to leave your side. Plus I have to go over do’s and dont’s with you before I pass out here again.” Harrie picked up a piece of paper on the nightstand, and passed it to Carol to read. “I take it this is how you knew.” It was a familiar list, now fully understanding the significance of what it was Sid had wanted translated all those years before. 

“I realized that’s what it was about four years ago. If I didn’t know someone I trusted like Sid and Jamie, I don’t know if… ”

“You're extremely lucky Sid was here when you telephoned,” Harrie mumbled as she quickly unbuttoned her pajama top and then started untying the drawstring of the bottoms. “Now, I've been on a plane for too many hours and even though through a measly three time zones, I’m still knackered.” Carol swiftly averted her eyes, trying hard not to look at Harrie undressing. “I’m gonna shut that bathroom door for less than a minute, then I will open it again before I get into the bath, so if you need something, holler.”

“I’ll… eat my lunch then.”

“I’m sorry if it’ll seem as though I am flaunting my ability to relax in the tub. I’ll make that ginger tea before bedtime tonight, alright?”

By the time Harrie returned from the bath, Carol was asleep again. They didn’t speak while Harrie was in the bathroom; all Carol could manage was to compliment Harrie on the pie, eat most of what she had put out for her and then collapse into a deep sleep. She removed the tray from the bed, noting that Carol had eaten all but a couple bites of pie which she immediately gobbled down before it sat around any longer. The tray went back onto the dresser along with the empty glass of water, which reminded her of the hot water bottle Carol had been using earlier. Harrie raised the blanket and pulled out the now cool water bottle and left it by the lunch tray.

Before she got back into bed, she raised her left arm to smell the shoulder of the pajamas she was wearing, noting that they smelled too much like the pie she had baked earlier. She knew Carol could be sensitive to odors, and didn’t want to risk waking up to her requests to take it off. She removed the pajamas again and crawled into bed beside Carol who immediately snuggled up to her with an arm around Harrie’s waist. Stringing her fingers across her unclothed stomach, she mumbled, “Thank you for looking after me,” before snoring directly into Harrie’s ear for a good four hours.

4:58 p.m.

When Carol woke again, it was due to the swirl of brown curls pressed to her lips and how they made her skin tickle. She peered beneath the blanket, looking down at their bare legs pressed against one another, noticing how Harrie wore nothing, and that the entirety of the middle of the bed was padded with a towel for her to sleep on.

She stood to walk to the bathroom, feeling alright after not having been on her feet for over a day. As she caught her balance, Carol steadied herself against the bedpost, gripping it as she took a couple deep breaths. Unfortunately, the couple of breaths must have tickled something within her nose and throat because the moment Carol sneezed, was when it all started.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered and darted across the hallway to the bathroom.

Once she heard Carol rushing across the hall, Harrie dazily woke and noticed her bed partner was missing. She quickly rose from the bed, hastily looking for the pajama top she had discarded earlier. Standing at the bathroom door that Carol had left slightly ajar, she pushed it open to make sure she was alright.

“I'm fine, I’m fine,” Carol exasperatedly spoke, “I stood up and sneezed and… “

Harrie laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I hate when that happens. Let me know if it’s anything other than small clots. You - we - should remember to massage the area every few hours. I'll be back in bed.” 

Back in the bedroom and without Carol there, Harrie flopped down and enjoyed the sensation of being in her old bed, messing up the towel draped across the middle. It was comfortable and familiar, possibly still with the indentations of where she used to sleep still sunk into the feather top. She never slept in the room anymore, not since college. Rather, not since Carol; instead always opting for the master bedroom on the second floor that used to be her parents’. Most of her books and trinkets had been moved downstairs to that room as well, making it her own with its bright windows and lightly papered walls with a subtle floral print. This had been their space together during all those vacations, and she knew Carol had come by the house for weekends during her Junior and Senior years when she wanted to get away from school, but didn't want to go down to Greenwich.

She adjusted the towel so it was neat for when Carol returned, checking it to ensure there weren't any spots on the fabric. She pulled off the pajama top one more time and flung it across the room, at this point also not wanting to smell it anywhere near her. Harrie shut her eyes and lay flat on her back, extending her right leg straight out, her left folded in a v with the heel of her foot pressed against the side of her knee. Despite hearing the toilet flush and the water from the sink run, she made no effort to move or adjust her position on the bed because Carol found her just like that upon returning to the room.

It felt good to stand up for a little bit and at least the view from where Carol stood provided an ample vantage point. She wished she could paint or draw, or even take a photograph the beautiful sight before her. Standing in the doorway, she watched as Harrie rustled her head against the pillow and scratched the top of her shoulder where her curls of her hair tickled against the bare skin. Her body still looked the same, same curve of her hip, same slight fleshy bulge of her stomach, same way her breasts fell when she slept on her back, same neatly trimmed patch of dark coarse hair between her legs. Carol looked away when she realized she was staring, but Harrie didn’t know. As the sun began to set and the room got darker, making out all the features that she had so often foolishly taken advantage of unabashedly looking at years earlier got increasingly difficult. Carol could stare all she wanted to without her knowing until it was too dark to see anything.

“You’re so beautiful, Harriet,” she whispered, climbing back into bed once the room was dark enough.

Monday, April 17th, 1950  
8:38 a.m.

Harrie put down her book, a tattered copy of _The Enchanted April_ that had belonged to her mother with sentences underlined and words circled throughout the text. All of her mother’s books looked like that with her favorite passages marked up in a variety of colored pencil. Straining her neck to look out the bedroom window, over the curve of Carol’s hip which she traced with tip of her finger, Harrie watched how Carol wriggled to the sensation of her movements. The tickle of her fingertip caused her to open her eyes and smile. “Good morning,” Carol said.

“I know I made the rules, but I’d like to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“Are you happy?”

Carol looked away, down at her hip where Harrie rested her hand, shaking her head no in reply. There was no need to think for a long time about the response, Carol already knew. She tucked her hands beneath the pillow to keep warm. Harrie moved closer, slouching down under the covers and tucking her own hands under the same pillow as Carol’s so she could caress her fingers. She wedged her feet between Carol's, letting their toes playfully mingle. When their fingers met and their toes touched, all intertwined, Carol began to cry. Harrie took a deep breath before steadying herself to shift forward and press her lips to Carol's. 

“‘You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.’”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Carol began to laugh, adding, “‘And I suppose you think you're the proper person,’” before eagerly kissing her back.

Wednesday, April 19th, 1950  
1:59 a.m.

“I have one question for you then.”

“Go on.”

“Do you have someone… someone like me?”

Harrie brushed the hair from her eyes and moved to face Carol in the darkness. “I do - “ Immediately, Carol pulled away from her, pressing her hands underneath the pillow so they couldn’t touch. “It’s fine, I promise you.”

“How come?”

“Question. Trust me, not every relationship is so… rigidly conventional,“ Harrie muttered as she kissed the corner of Carol’s bare shoulder. The skin was slightly damp from the late-night shower, smelling of clean soap and powder. “You can come back with me, if you'd like. I already asked - ”

“I can't do that, Harriet. There's… even if I could.” 

Harrie lifted Carol’s arm to pull herself against the same spot she had just kissed then gently wrapped her own arm around Carol’s stomach, tenderly tracing the puckered lines she could feel with her fingertips, little pink marks she had seen in the daylight when doing the abdomen massages. “You could and even bring - “ 

“No, we're the past, Harriet. We have right now and tomorrow and the day after and whatever, but that's all. I know that.” Carol lifted Harrie’s hand away from her abdomen, instead placing it between her breasts. “I wouldn't belong.” 

“Maybe you ought to find out where you do belong and how you fit into the scheme of things. Otherwise, you’re gonna wake up one day and realize it’s too late to do anything about it.”

9:15 a.m.

After a few hours more sleep and well before lunchtime, Harrie woke and shook Carol awake the moment she peered out the bedroom window, “Wake up, get dressed. We're going out.”

“Is this a date?”

“We’re going to Fenway,” she answered, purposely neglecting a proper reply. “Then I’m loading you up on protein and vitamins.”

“Ah, so... it is a date: one high in protein and vitamins from food and sunshine,” Carol teased. “We’re going to the ballpark, then having late luncheon. In the city. On a Wednesday. In springtime. With all the tulips and hyacinth in bloom.” Harrie smirked and turned her eyes away from Carol’s equally suggestive gaze. 

“It is a date: Patriots’ Day, Boston Marathon, Red Sox home game double-header. Double-header against the Yankees. I’ve been - “ Harrie stopped herself from speaking any further and kissed Carol on the cheek before getting up from the bed to to open the armoire to find something to wear. 

Carol quietly finished the statement for her. “You’ve been waiting for this all year.” Now, she could easily understand Harrie’s excitement.

“I meant to say, I’ve been coming back East every year for opening day and the Marathon, my plans just got… moved up this year,” Harrie admitted. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have offered that. Are you up to it?”

“Yes, it’s alright, and yes, I am certainly up to it. It looks like a lovely day outside,” Carol said as she sat up, resting against the headboard. “I didn’t pack anything for going out, Harriet.”

“I already thought of that!” she said, darting off down the hall and running down one flight of stairs. Moments later, she returned with her arms full of clothing that she flung onto the bed. “Well?”

“These are men’s pants.” Carol picked up a pair of worn brown corduroy trousers, holding them up for Harrie to see, thinking that perhaps she had gotten them confused with something else.

“Well, I don’t have any ladies’ slacks for you and absolutely no wearing a skirt or dress with garters... so take ‘em or leave ‘em. You got that nice blue sweater and my long coat to cover most of you anyways. I assure you, you’ll look very pretty and very smart.” Harrie turned back to the armoire and pulled out a pair of shorts and socks then knelt down to get something from the bottom, coming up with a worn pair of solid black hi-top sneakers. Harrie sat down at the edge of the bed and smoothed out the blankets that had bunched up at Carol's feet.

“' _Smaht_ ,’” Carol mimicked. “No fur then.”

“It’s a baseball game, not gala night.”

Carol smiled and reached for the other items Harrie had next to her, curious about the pair of shorts. “And these are for… ”

“Trust me, wear them too. That way, you won’t have to put on a belt or suspenders. The trousers will be low, but not fall off your hips.” 

“My ass will look huge.” Smirking and trying very hard not to say anything, Harrie couldn’t resist, waiting a couple beats before opening her mouth to speak, only to have Carol lean toward her and press her lips to hers. “I know exactly what you were going to say.”

4:45 p.m.

In a dark restaurant together, seated across from one another, Harrie took the menu from Carol’s hands and grinned. They sat by the window, open wide enough so Carol could breathe in as much fresh air as possible and not be smothered by the cigarette and pipe smoke that heavily hung throughout the tavern, and also bright enough to allow them to actually see one another.

“I can’t believe I never took you to Fenway,” Harrie cried. “I’m the worst Bostonian.”

“No, you’re not,” Carol retorted. After days spent cooped up in the house on Chestnut Street, it was nice to have spent the afternoon outdoors at the ballpark, even if they didn’t make it all the way through the second game. Harrie spent the afternoon drinking Narragansett beers, letting Carol have a couple sips here and there, and sharing paper packets of roasted peanuts. Leaning across the table to Harrie, Carol whispered, “You are the prettiest Bostonian though.”

Harrie looked down into her purse for a vial of pills, hiding the blush on her cheeks. “Not to be some controlling bastard, but I am ordering for you because you’re still on your diet regime. Don’t forget to take these, too.” She slid the pill bottle across the table and Carol took it, placing the vial at the opposite end of the table by the salt and pepper shakers.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t meet the criteria for high in protein,” Carol joked. “In fact, you have fairly poor nutritional value. Highly flavorful, but of no merit.”

“Look who’s cheeky now,” mused Harrie, thinking back to the previous night and how they had fallen asleep.

“You’re very high in thoughtfulness,” she proposed.

“Awww,” Harrie cooed. “All that flattery aside, I can’t trust you to not slather lobster in butter or eat a mound of fried scrod or clams. I’ve seen you do it.”

“You’re probably going to eat that in front of me while I watch.”

“I’m not cruel, you know, Carol,” she insisted. “You can eat oysters - “

“You’re trying to torture me with aphrodisiacs when you know damn well you can’t go... aren’t you?”

Harrie held up the pint of Guinness in her hand and glared at Carol over the frothy top of her glass. “Question… “

“That was barely a question. It was… interjective.” Harrie tilted her head to the side, disapprovingly looking back at her. Regardless it was impossible to keep a smile off her face as she sat across from Carol. Harrie picked up the menu, looking for all the non-fried selections which were scattered throughout, choosing things they would both like and could easily share. A moment later, she felt the flat of the smooth rubber toe on Carol's sneaker brush its way up and down her nylon-covered calf, never going above the knee. “Maybe you are the worst Bostonian ever. You've never even taken me on a swan boat.”

“After dinner then,” Harrie winked.

Thursday, April 20th, 1950  
9:45 p.m.

“Did I tell you how cute you look tonight?”

“No, and that was a question.”

“Dammit!” Harrie exclaimed. “I'm not very good at minding my own rules.”

“You can tell me though.”

Harrie looked around as they passed through the Common, getting far enough away between the lamplights for it to be dark, and took Carol's hand. She raised it to her lips, kissing the back of her hand, then flipping it over to kiss the palm. “You're cute.”

“But not gorgeous.”

“Well, of course you're gorgeous,” Harrie smiled, “gorgeous.” She lowered their hands and kept them entwined as they walked along the path together. “I only emphasize the cute because you've got on those old corduroys, a tight as hell cashmere sweater beneath that duffle coat there, an old beret on your head, and then those wicked ratty PF Flyers of mine on your feet. You're killin’ me, gorgeous.”

“You did say no heels.”

“I say a lotta things,” Harrie teased. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, less drained,” Carol started, “and… happy. I’m happy. I feel happy being here with you.”

“The offer still stands.”

“I know, Harrie.” Carol swung their hands. “You know I can't.”

“Did you like the movie?”

There were footsteps off in the distance, breaking the amicability of their walk home when they each took a step away from one another, letting go of their joined hands which instantly retreated deep into their respective coat pockets.

“Loved it, although the cat stole the whole damn picture,” answered Harrie, acting as though their conversation was continued with one another as it had before their hands became unclasped. “I gotta say though, this print is missing about ten minutes of film.”

“Ah… you've already seen it. Over there.”

“December.”

Harrie looked over her shoulder, trying to see where the footsteps had come from but there was no one in sight. Facing forward again, and seeing no one, she fished Carol's hand from her pocket and held onto it as they continued through the Common together, only letting go as they reached the lights of Beacon Street.

Friday, April 21st, 1950  
11:30 a.m.

“All the benefits of being in a garden with the sound of rainfall hitting that glass roof instead of us.”

“It’s relaxing. Thank you,” Carol smiled.

“You endured almost two back-to-back Red Sox games on Wednesday, without the aid of beer, mind you. I owed you something that is all Carol.”

When was the last time Harge had done something so unselfishly like that? Before the war? Wait, there was that one time he dressed, fed, and minded Rindy on a Saturday in November so she could have approximately two extra hours in bed? When was the last time she had been to a museum like that and wandered around, having fun and looking at artworks she adored, not feeling out of place among Harge's friends and colleagues who talked real estate, or their wives who obsessed about their children and recipes that wanted, but only to pass on to their own cook.

She and Harrie never had Vienna, or Paris, or Florence for that matter. They had New York and Boston, and the quiet of Greenwich. 

There were never afternoons on the beaches the Biarritz, Ostend, Sanremo, or Newquay. They always had the dunes of Cape Cod, that quiet stretch of Ocean Beach, or the private beach by her grandparents’ house.

They never ate fries from a cone or warm stroopwafels or even crêpes filled with melted chocolate and strawberry jam on-the-go. Instead, fried seafood, coffee and doughnuts, and any number of Harrie's homemade savory English pies.

There were never any week-long voyages by steamer across the Atlantic or cross-country train rides in a sleeper car where they'd spend at least one day stowed away together and requesting all meals be directly delivered to them; they had the streetcar and trains criss-crossing between Boston, Springfield, Hartford, New York, and Riverside stations.

They never got lost in the Rijksmuseum, the Louvre, the Prado, or the Uffizi. But there was always the Met and the Gardner, and, of course, the Cloisters. 

“This is… this reminds me of… “ Harrie brushed her hand against Carol’s, distracting her train of thought, even though she knew she probably shouldn't tell Carol what she was thinking about. She already knew.

Carol grabbed Harrie’s hand and pulled her away from the center of the enclosed courtyard where they walked. She led her toward the darkness underneath the portico of Romanesque arches, away from the bright natural lighting of the center courtyard. “Maybe it’s just being here with you… and it's spring and you're so beautiful and… maybe I'm out of my mind… “ Looking around her, searching for prying eyes and finding no one, she kissed along the side of Harrie’s neck and beneath her ear, “Sometimes, I wish I had opened your Christmas present early.”

“Sometimes, I wish you did too. It could have been like this.”

“I know.”

It was Harrie who took her to the museum, even though she was still clueless about art, because she knew how much she liked it. Harrie who looked after her, didn’t judge her, made sure she had a shoulder to cry on, told her how much she was loved, cuddled up with her every night, and assured her that things would be better. Perhaps not immediately, but they would improve, no matter if that meant a life with Harge or on her own. And it was Harrie who always knew before something went too far. 

Carol stilled, listening for the sound of rain on the rooftop, hearing nothing. “I think the rain stopped.”

“Let’s go back to the house,” Harrie stammered as Carol’s hands snuck inside her jacket and around her waist. “I'd like to be snuggled up in bed with you when it starts up again.”

Saturday, April 22nd, 1950  
10:26 a.m.

The click from the bathroom door woke Carol as she watched Harrie emerge, dressed in the one blouse and skirt she had brought with her. “No,” Carol sniffled as she watched Harrie put a few garments into the small bag propped open at the foot of the bed.

“I know.” Harrie did a final scan around the bedroom to make sure she had everything, then fastened the straps of her bag. She sat down beside Carol, reaching up to flatten her blonde curls that were out of place from her tugging on them earlier that morning. “I was hoping to not wake you. You looked so comfortable there, so… familiar. Maybe too familiar.”

Carol sat up, holding the sheets against her to stay warm. “It's been nice. Being here, in this really, really… really fucked up kind of way,” she smiled.

“FUBAR.”

“Definitely.”

“Sorry it was one-sided, but I have this list… “ she smiled.

With a laugh and a shrug, Harrie replied, “That couldn't be helped. I liked holding you. I've always loved that. And… you really needed that.” Harrie then pinched the bridge of her nose and avoided looking her. “‘You know, you ought to get yourself a girl.’” 

Carol swallowed, waiting to speak for a long while, debating if she even wanted to bring it up to Harrie; regardless, she should know if she didn't already note it herself. “You did say her name once when… “

Harrie sniffled and stopped breathing for a moment, then wiped her eyes, “Use your key to lock up when you head out, alright?”

Carol shook her head. “I don't have one, Harriet. I’ve never had a key.” 

“Yeah, you do, it was in - “ Harrie smiled and raised her hand to Carol's chin, tilting it up so she could kiss her one more time. “Always gonna love you, Carol.”

“I know. Love you too.”

* * *

Friday, April 1st, 1960  
7:26 p.m.

NAMES OF THE PERSONS LIVING HERE ON APRIL 1, 1960 AND THOSE STAYING HERE WHO HAVE NO OTHER HOME. Write names in this order: Head of household on first line, Wife of head, Unmarried children, Married children and their families, Other relatives, Others not related to head of household.

Person 3  
Last name: Belivet  
First name: Therese  
Middle initial: M  
What is the relationship of each person to the head of this household?

“Therese?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m filling out the census. What… what on earth do I put for you in regards to your relationship to head of household?”

“Aside from ‘adorable’?”

Carol laughed and turned back to the form on her desk. “No, seriously, sweetness, what do I put for you?”

“Lodger?”

“No, no. I don’t want you reduced to ‘lodger,’” she lifted Therese’s hand to her lips, then rested her cheek against it. “You’re my Therese, you deserve more than that.” She took a deep breath and scratched her forehead. 

Therese shrugged. “I dunno then. What about companion?”

“I won’t put that on there, Therese! What will - “ 

“Oh, for Heaven's sake, Carol. Bored government bureaucrats are going to read millions of these forms over the next couple years. We're not putting it on the front page of the _Times_ or anything like that.”

“I suppose you’re right. It’s not like it used to be where you had someone showing up at your doorstep to take down your information and you had to look them straight in the eye to tell them who you were exactly.” Carol picked up her black pen and carefully wrote COMPANION in large block letters, right below DAUGHTER that she had written for Rindy on the line above. 

“What did Harrie write for Jo?”

“I asked: She said she put ‘Cunning Linguist.’ I mean, it’s not entirely a lie.” Therese slowly turned her head, displaying the most wide-eyed expression Carol had ever seen. 

What is the relationship of each person to the head of this household? COMPANION.

April 1970

Last name: Belivet  
First name: Therese  
Middle initial: M

HOW IS EACH PERSON RELATED TO THE HEAD OF HOUSEHOLD? _If “Other not related to head,” also give exact relationship, for example, partner, maid, etc._

Other not related to head -- _Print exact relationship:_ Partner

April 1980

PERSON in column 2  
Last Name: Belivet  
First Name: Therese  
Middle Initial: M

If not related to person in column 1: Partner, roommate

April 1990

Person 2  
Last Name: Belivet  
First Name: Therese  
Middle Initial: M

IF NOT RELATED to Person 1: Unmarried Partner

* * *

Saturday, March 18, 2000  
10:29 a.m.

Person 2  
What is Person 2’s name? _Print name below_  
Last Name: Belivet  
First Name: Therese  
MI: M

How is this person related to Person 1? _Mark ONE box._

“Therese?”

“Hmmm?”

“Could you come here and look at this?”

Therese placed her book on the table and walked over to the desk where Carol sat, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she peered at the paper in her hands. “What is it?”

“I don’t know what to put for you, dearest. ‘How is this person related to Person 1? _Mark ONE box_.’ Are you ‘Husband/wife’ or ‘Other relative -- _Print exact relationship_ ’? Or… are you ‘IF NOT RELATED to Person 1… Unmarried partner’?”

Reading the question over Carol’s shoulder, Therese skimmed the words again, trying to make sense of the phrasing. “What did we do last time?”

“Last time we weren’t registered as domestic partners, but it’s not as though that is federally recognized… or the state for that matter. What about ‘Unmarried partner’?”

“Carol, I love you, but this makes my head hurt. Why don't we ask Harrie and Jo what they wrote when they come over later.”

Carol nodded her head. “Good idea.”

“Probably put ‘Unmarried partner’ otherwise the computer will probably reject it or explode based upon what you put for my sex.” Therese tightened her arms and leaned in to kiss her temple. 

“Computers… “ Carol scoffed, screwing the cap back onto her pen so she could wait to fill in the rest of the form later. “Come cuddle: they won't be here for another four hours at least. Did you read about Vermont the other day?”

Therese grinned. “Should I start making the bookings now?”

How is this person related to Person 1? _Mark ONE box_. IF NOT RELATED to Person 1: Unmarried partner

* * *

Tuesday, March 16, 2010  
4:10 p.m.

“Not sure if you heard the phone ring - “

“I heard it just fine.”

“Jack called. He said Ted is coming home from Haiti on Friday, so we’re going to surprise him up at Logan. Harrie’s invited us to stay over, okay?”

Carol looked up from her papers and shook her head, “My grandfather passed away years ago, Therese, before I even met you.”

“No, not your grandfather… Harrie. Our friend, Harriet.”

Still shaking her head and smiling, Carol looked back at the paper attached to the clipboard. “I still don’t know to whom you’re referring, Therese.”

Therese took off her glasses and sat down on the couch next to Carol, taking her left hand in hers and sighing. Enjoying the blissful quietness, Carol took the opportunity to softly sing; Therese recognized the tune, a slower version of “Garden in the Rain” than she remembered from when they met, and smiled, not having heard it in years, and rested her head against her shoulder.

Carol unfolded the piece of paper and began to fill in the information. Unfurling the paper, she looked at the section where the information for Person 2 needed to be entered, and exclaimed, “Finally!” as she checked the box with a flick of her black fountain pen, holding it up for Therese to read. “Took long enough.”

Person 2  
Last Name: Belivet  
First Name: Therese  
MI: M

How is this person related to Person 1? _Mark ONE box_. Husband or wife.

There would be good days, there would be bad days. Today, though, was still a very good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ihlku1aKpRg) for _The Third Man_ (1949) dir. Carol Reed
> 
> Just kidding, the original trailer is the worst thing in the world. [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9yyDEDGlr0) restoration trailer is slightly better.
> 
> And a big thank you to Pipestone for the bit about companion v. partner in 1960 ;-)


	15. All This, and Heaven Too

Monday, August 12th, 1940

“What time you got?” came a muffled voice from pressed into a colorful beach towel.

Reaching into the pile of folded clothes on the towel, Harrie felt around for her pocketwatch which was tucked into the pocket of her shorts. She couldn’t help but smile as she pulled it from the pile and popped open to the cover to see the time as well as the message engraved inside:

_Best Wishes to Harrie_  
_With Love from Carol_  
_June 17th, 1940_

Carol was the only person she had show up for her at graduation. There weren't any of Harrie's relations in attendance, only Carol who clapped for her along with a handful of friends from the chemistry department. It meant everything to have someone there - to have Carol there specifically - to congratulate her.

Harrie couldn’t resist looking at the pocketwatch whenever she could. It made her light up, remembering how Carol had given it to her on graduation day while they were out at dinner together. She had slid the box across the table in the candlelight, just before dessert arrived, and looked up at Harrie, puckering her lips for a kiss into the still air and in her direction. The restaurant was warm, the lighting was low, and Harrie knew Carol couldn’t possibly see how red her cheeks became at the sight of the present and the kiss. 

That was Carol, always thinking a step ahead. With Harrie’s propensity for rolling up her shirtsleeves or having to wear gloves for whatever task she was doing, a pocketwatch wouldn’t get ruined like a regular watch or snagged on a sweater or sleeve. Whenever she'd put her hand in her pocket, she'd feel the watch sitting there and it would instantly bring a smile to her face.

“Hey, scientist, I asked what time it is,” Carol teased, still muffled in her speech as she stretched out on a towel. Carol lay face down with her arms extending down to her sides in the warmth of the afternoon sun. It was hot, not humid like at home, but dry with an occasional breeze from the water. Her eyes remained shut even though they were masked by sunglasses which easily helped her fall in and out of sleep with the hint of darkness they provided. The sound of the waves landing on the shore or nearby rocks had drifted her off to sleep.

“It’s almost three so we ought to head home before the fog rolls in. You know, I think you like asking me on purpose,” Harrie answered. She paused to watch the way Carol moved on the towel, how she brushed her head from side to side to move the loose strands of hair from her neck, or adjusted how her arms rested at her sides, contouring into the sand. “Gorgeous?” 

“Hmmm?”

Harrie leaned down, brushing her hair to hang to one side so she could press her lips along the center of Carol's back, kissing a few spots along her spine. Her skin was warm and turned white for a moment when Harrie lifted her lips from each kiss. Later on, she knew that if she clung to Carol’s shoulders at all - perhaps not if, but rather when she clung to Carol’s shoulders - the firm grip from her fingers would most likely cause her to wail in pain. “You might want to flip over before you burn.” Carol let out a clipped moan, arching her back from the contact with Harrie's lips.

“Don’t care.”

“I care,” Harrie said as she kissed along the corner of Carol’s shoulder, her skin salty from an earlier plunge into the water. “With you being some kind of Scandinavian and me being English, we’ll look like a couple of boiled lobsters if we're not mindful.”

While Carol thought she was softly chuckling to herself, she was audibly laughing loud enough that Harrie could overhear. “‘You say _lobstah_ , and I say lobster…’”

Snapping her fingers back and forth like a lobster claw, Harrie pinched her bottom with both hands causing Carol's hips to wriggle from side to side. “I don't make fun of the way you talk.”

“Darling, it's too easy with you. Besides, you know I think it terribly cute, and I don’t talk funny. At least not as funny as you.” Harrie pinched her again. “Ow! Re-tie my top then, would you?” Carol asked before she got pinched for a third time.

“We could just go home… “

“Tie it and I’ll consider going home with you,” teased Carol.

Home.

It wasn’t much of a home, or a house at that. It badly needed a coat of paint inside and out, or at least some new wallpaper inside. The backyard needed work and arranging, something Harrie always wanted to try to do, and Carol always wanted to have her own little gardens, one for flowers and one for vegetables.

It desperately needed furniture. Something other than the large bed, trunks, and hodgepodge of secondhand desks Harrie had arranged around the unoccupied spare bedroom as her workspace. When Carol asked where she had gotten all three desks, Harrie said she'd found them around the neighborhood and carried them piece by piece back to the house. She’d have to wait through until Carol moved in to even think about getting real furniture for the place. 

Ever since Carol had taken that decorative style class, she had become fascinated with antique pieces and knew that out in California, the types of pieces she liked were probably too difficult to come across. Things could be freighted for a cost; most likely a hefty cost. Then again, for how long did they plan to be out there?

“We have to get some damn furniture and flatware,” Carol muttered one afternoon as she carried in a crate of groceries and placed it on the kitchen counter. “A dining table? Some chairs?” 

Harrie simply rolled her eyes, saying she liked having dinners with her out on the porch, even if they were sitting on blankets or beach towels and leaning against the frames or columns. It was airy and comfortable, plus ducked down like that, no one could see how they sat closely to one another or shared the same cake fork, especially since Harrie only had the one cake fork and could have cared less if they had an ample supply of dessert spoons or fish knives.

Sometimes, when the fog would roll in during the late afternoon or it was simply too cool for them to be at the beach, they would have hot chocolate (if Carol was responsible) or tea (if Harrie’s choice) with cookies (always made by Carol) while sitting out on the porch. Wrapped up in a blanket where no one could see them huddled up together or hear them chatting away about everything from funny names for chemical compounds to fresco techniques.

It needed chairs especially. Not that was a big concern when it was only the two of them and they simply sat on the bed over which they would drape a large sheet or blanket during the daytime whenever they ate or loafed around with their books and magazines or listened to music on those summer afternoons. Carol, however, constantly worried that she would wake in the middle of the night to ants creeping around her legs, and insisted that they get chairs and a dining room table. On the other hand, Harrie insisted that the only thing creeping around her at night would be her own hands sliding up her legs.

As soon as she arrived in San Francisco, Carol went to the nearest stationery shop and picked up a small notebook to begin making a list of all the things she wanted to get for the house. Sometimes, Carol would jot down an item and days later, when reviewing the list, would find it scratched out or a silly abbreviation written on the side by Harrie, usually with a “HY” for “hell yes” for a strong approval or an “HN” for “hell no” indicating a strong disapproval. All of the “HN” comments were typically about (what she deemed unnecessary) flatware, laundry hampers, and cabinet liners.

The bed was the only new item Harrie had seriously splurged on when she moved into the house. It was sleek and modern, with a solid, flat headboard and a matching shorter footboard. Perhaps getting a bed with a footboard had been a mistake since they were both so tall and Carol could press the flat of her foot directly against the base. Not that she minded, it made for a good place to steady her feet when necessary. Harrie liked it though, saying it prevented the sheets and blankets from falling onto the floor and putting too much pressure on her toes while she was sleeping. The moment Carol walked into the bedroom and saw the bed, she asked where she would place her hands without the rungs of an iron frame or columns from a four-poster bed, to which Harrie cheekily replied, “To me, of course. Would you like me to show you?” and winked. Naturally, Carol would come back saying her memory was a bit foggy and she might need a pointer here or there to muddle through.

Harrie smiled thinking back to all the good times they had spent together, and leaned over to gather the two ties to her swimsuit that were somewhere beneath her throat. Pulling them up, she neatly tied them behind her neck, then trailed a fingernail from the knot on down her spine. “C'mon, let's head home before everyone gets out of work.” Harrie stood up and carefully picked up her shorts, making sure that the pocketwatch didn’t fall and get grains of sand into the crevices. Carol carefully flipped over, hoping that Harrie had appropriately tightened the straps of her swimsuit. After Harrie pulled on her shorts, she looked down at Carol, still sitting on her towel, and held out her hands to help her up.

“Thank you,” Carol said as she stood, and Harrie let her hand caress Carol’s for just a moment longer than completely necessary. 

Harrie looked down at their joined hands, smiling, then looked around to see if there was anyone. She leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I must get all of my kisses in while I can,” she explained as she tossed on her unbuttoned blouse over her swimsuit. 

Tuesday, December 17th, 1940

Carol glanced out the window of Harrie’s bedroom facing onto the road, noticing the snow come down harder than it had earlier in the afternoon. She didn’t spend long watching it, hoping a sudden snow squall would blow in and either make the electricity go out or make so much snow fall that there would be a whiteout. Then again, it wasn’t even the first day of winter yet. She had no idea why she wished for so much snow or for her to be barricaded into the townhouse on Chestnut Street. She briefly thought about the food in the kitchen, if there was enough soup, bread, and eggs to last another day or two if necessary. Carol could, though, spend all day wearing Harrie’s old flannel pajamas and tucked into her big familiar bed without anyone to bother her, all snuggled into the one place she felt happiest.

Wishful thinking, she sighed, returning her attention to the composition book resting against her propped up legs. Carol was getting frustrated reading and taking notes for the past hour and a half. She stared at the pages again and again, everything blending and melding together. Maybe she needed a break. She kept scribbling into her notebook and reading away while tapping her foot to the music from the radio. She loved working on a project like this for what seemed like hours, pouring over of a book or sitting at her typewriter, completely lost in whatever it was she was working on. She was usually so focused on her tasks, usually tapping her foot or her pencil as she thought through each sentence of what she was writing then put everything from her mind down on paper. 

Carol didn’t like being alone like that, but she could at least say that she was somewhere that she felt safe and happy. At least being in Boston, there was more than one movie theater, multiple art museums, any number of places to grab a bite. It wasn’t entirely bad, but it was still lonely. She debated contacting friends and acquaintances from Miss Porter’s who she knew lived in the city, but they were probably still traveling home for Christmas. Besides, Carol didn’t want someone else to intrude on the space that she saw as hers and Harrie’s.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t been looking forward to staying with her grandparents for Christmas. She was still planning to head down there a few days before Christmas, but she told them she ought to check on the house in Boston for Harrie, especially since her brother and James were no longer around to pop in and out as much as they had been. The key was still there under the bootscraper, so there was no difficulty getting into the house, switching on the gas and hot water, or anything else in getting settled into the place. Nonetheless, she couldn’t wait to get to Greenwich where her grandparents were always so happy to have her around. Her grandmother would bake a cake and put a piping of that delicious homemade jam between the two layers of sponge, and her grandfather would sit up at night and play cards with her while talking about school or books or something that would make the both of them laugh and smile through the night. 

It wouldn’t be the same kind of Christmas without Harrie though. Harrie liked the old sled that belonged to Carol’s grandfather that hung from a rusted, beastly-looking iron hook in the garage. Whenever they woke up to newly-fallen snow, she’d rush off to the garage, barely dressed to be outdoors without a hat or mittens, trying to tug along Carol who would be too busy looking for her own hat and mittens before even thinking of being out in the snow without them. That was with Carol though. If Jack happened to be there, Harrie would make sure she put her coat, hat and mittens on before helping him with his own, trying to set a good example behind all the eagerness to tackle the snow.

She also always made the best third at the card table with her grandfather; tumbler of Scotch in hand and laughing all the while he smoked cigars or a pipe, and Carol always rushing off to make everyone sandwiches like they hadn’t had dinner only hours before. 

Even her grandmother had grown immensely fond of her, teaching her how to make cookies that last Christmas when Elaine and the boys came up. Elaine couldn’t have been bothered learning how, too busy (as always) chasing around the two oldest boys while Jack would sit quietly in his high chair in the kitchen, munching on a miniature gingerbread man Carol or Harrie would specially make with a tuft of yellow icing on its head, calling it a “Ginger Jack.” Even his great-grandmother would comment how splendidly he behaved when compared to his brothers and Carol’s own father. 

No, it was better to be in Boston, by herself, even if it meant alone for a week, and able to focus on studying for the January exams as well as having a couple of enjoyable evenings to do as she pleased and without anyone questioning her. She knew who to phone to get milk delivered every couple of days. She knew where the gas and hot water switches were. She knew where to go get a morning paper, and if she was friendly with the gentleman around the corner, he would drop off a copy of the _Globe_ at the doorstep before opening his stand and the _Evening Globe_ on his way home.

Startled by the doorbell, Carol rushed down the three flights of stairs to the front door, thinking it could actually be a telegram from Harrie who was probably relaxing on a beach out in California while Carol froze back in Boston. When Carol opened the door, she was greeted by a young woman with a little girl of about four in tow carrying a small basket. The woman held it out to Carol, smiling. 

“Oh, no, no, no… I don’t want to buy anything. Thank you.” 

As Carol began to shut the door, the woman shook her head, “No, not buy.” Carol’s ears perked when she detected her accent, one she had again become accustom to hearing at school the past year. She certainly used her Italian to read and (most likely badly) speak with her instructor, but she had never had the opportunity to use it outside of school. “ _Un regalo per il dottor Lovell e la sorellina_. Gift.”

Carol shook her head, frowning. “ _Non è qui. È andato in Inghilterra. Sua sorella è…_ “ She stopped speaking, unsure if she should admit to both Sid and Harrie being gone.

The woman pleasantly grinned back at her, surprised to hear someone in that particular neighborhood greet her at the front door of a house such as that speaking her own language. “ _Volevo ringraziare per…_ “ She looked down at the basket the girl held and took it from her. “ _Comunque, per voi, Signorina_.” Holding the basket out to Carol, she hesitantly took it and lifted the cloth to see what was underneath. There were puffy pastries, all stuck together with a shiny glaze of honey, sprinkled with colorful nonpareils on top. 

“ _Non posso_ ,” Carol answered as she lowered the cloth.

“Yes,” the woman said pushing forward, “for Christmas. Struffoli, _fatt’ a cas’_.”

“Who should I say brought these?” Carol blurted out, then paused. “ _Come vi chiamate?_ ”

The woman simply smiled at her again and said she would call again tomorrow, pressing the basket into Carol’s hands a final time before walking away.

_December 18, 1940_

_My darling Harrie,_

_The funniest thing happened yesterday. I was upstairs, reading about the Impressionists (I know. Exciting?) when the doorbell rang. There was a nice Italian lady with her little girl at the door carrying a basket of pastries. I didn't want to leave them here for whenever you come back to visit in the summer and be a Miss Havisham about it - with me, still in my winter sweaters and wool skirts, waiting - so I may have eaten them and they may have been entirely delicious. Anyhow, she stopped by with the pastries to thank you and your brother. I asked her name, however she declined to leave it and hurried off. She said she would call again tomorrow, presumably to collect her basket. Your brother certainly has the kindest of patients!_

_By the way, it was the first time I got to speak Italian outside of class. Very nerve wracking, yet very exciting!_

_Did the rest of the semester go alright? I know you were worried about that quantum mechanics course. Just writing out the name kind of frightens me. Is it warm there now? Or is it just always warm like it was in summer? I bet it's hot and sunny while I'm still digging myself out from beneath piles of blankets and woolen everything. I bet you've got yourself a nice tan despite the fact it’s December. Or, you are sitting on the porch, all huddled up with a blanket, sipping tea and watching the fog as you freeze. Regardless, no snow where you are!_

_Christmastime here isn’t the same without you. Don't forget: Reply to Greenwich!_

_All my love,  
Carol_

_P.s. you don't know how to make these struffoli by any chance, do you?_

Thurs. 26th Dec. 1940

Hey there gorgeous,

It's certainly not hot here in San Francisco! This area is its own microcosm of bizarre weather this time of year. It's grey, cloudy, and cool all the time: essentially November year ‘round. Except when you were here in the summer; however, that was only because I put in a good word with the weather to impress my gal. Overall though, there is excellent snuggle weather here at the moment, if you ask me, and yes, I wish you could be here to snuggle up with beside the little Christmas tree I put in our bedroom.

Quantum mechanics went fine in the end. I worry and stress myself out too much over the little things. You know that, my dear!

I probably should have mentioned Signora Ricci (and Raffaella) would come calling. She’s been coming over before Christmas, on St. Joseph’s Day (in March sometime), Easter, etc. for the past few years, and usually stops to check on me (for whatever reason) during the holidays. Her older sister used to work for my mother and they knew each other quite well, but I think she thinks I’m lonely and underfed. We’ve never really been able to communicate with each other (food aside), so it must have been a hoot for you and a total joy for her. Before you left, I bet she probably brought over at least half a pizza or, my favourite ~~aubergine~~ eggplant dish to share with you and I am sitting here, terribly jealous, because I miss the goodies she’d bring by the house.

Plus you! Have I told you lately how much I miss you? Because I do! Still another six months until… You. Here. California. On the beach. In our yard (which is coming along!). Sitting on lawn chairs (actual furniture!) in our bathing suits, right next to each other.

And our house.

Please send my love to everyone there and tell them I miss them terribly. I hope everyone liked their presents! Give Harry a hug and kiss from his Harrie. As for Jack, please take him sledding if there’s snow and make sure he’s bundled up properly.

Love and kisses always,  
Harrie.  
XOXO

p.s. Why is it called ‘eggplant’? What is wrong with you?

_December 26, 1940_

_Harriet, ma minette..._

_Signora Ricci was a delight! She and her little girl stopped over every day to talk, often over coffee or luncheon. She taught me to make coffee in a moka (which you apparently had gathering dust above the stove) and I taught her to make those Chocolate Crunch Cookies (with extra chocolate pieces) you like so much because Raffaella really loved them. All of the coffee I have had until now is swill. Why didn’t you tell me???_

_The first thing she said to me when we sat down to coffee was I must have been the person who had done translations for Sid. She also very pointedly mentioned you must consider yourselves very lucky to have me around, so there’s that. She has nothing but the kindest things to say about you, your brother, and Jamie. I told her about you being at school in California, explained (albeit vaguely) who I am and why I’ve been at the house._

_Nonetheless, it’s been an eye-opening experience and one I’ll not forget. Especially the pizza._

_When I got to Greenwich two days ago, my grandmother was in the kitchen baking and Jack sitting in an actual chair. He’s gotten so big, Harriet! Since he's bigger now and is eating more grown-up foods, I made us little Ginger Jacks which we'll have all the while we're visiting together. Darling, he’s asked for you four times so far and it breaks my heart each time I have to tell him you’re not here. Tonight, when I put him to bed and he's holding onto that charming teddy bear you gave him, I'll read him Ferdinand just like you would and show him that adorable picture Grandpa took of the three of us at the Fair this summer._

_I assure you, I am counting the days until the summer and we can have all the time in the world to do things together._

_Love, kisses and hugs from 3,000 miles away,  
Carol_

_p.s. if Jack could count, he’d probably be counting the days too..._

Saturday, December 28th, 1940

Walking into the kitchen with Jack sitting atop her shoulders, Carol stopped as soon as she reached the door frame. “Duck!” she said tightening her hold on Jack's legs.

“Quack!” squeaked the little boy as he lowered his head to rest on Carol's. He always did that every time Carol or Harrie carried him on their shoulders, just before they would meet a door frame to make sure that his little head cleared it. Every time either of them carried him around that way and someone told him to duck, he'd make a quacking sound, which was most endearing, although he tended to keep quacking until told to stop. Carol slunk down, moving into the kitchen and ensuring Jack didn’t hit his head. When she stood up straight again, Jack sat up as well until Carol pulled him off her shoulders to place him onto a chair.

He happily sat down, waiting for his small glass of milk, which Carol carefully poured out and placed on the table. She then picked up a tin of cookies, one hidden away from everyone else who would probably eat his specially-made treats without giving a second thought to what they were. “Who wants a Ginger Jack?” 

“Me!” he answered, then quickly added a “please” onto the end of what he'd said. Carol held out the cookie, waiting for him to take it from her, but he hesitated despite having been so eager to have it a moment earlier.

“What, Jack? Don't you want your cookie? Your Ginger Jack?”

“Cookie,” he simply said as he looked into the open tin with one more Ginger Jack inside, “Harrie.” Carol shook her head and made sure he took the cookie from her hand. She took a seat next to him, watching Jack eat and drink his glass of milk, as her thoughts drifted off thousands of miles away from the kitchen in Greenwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BP3nIRxiCU) for _All This, and Heaven Too_ (1940) dir. Anatole Litvak


	16. Citizen Kane

Saturday, June 7th, 1941  
3:10 p.m.

Harge uncapped his beer and paused, “California, eh?”

Carol nodded. “I'll be there most of the summer,” she said as she settled onto the picnic blanket.

“How you getting there?”

“Big splurge,” Carol answered. “Flying from Newark in mid-July. Birthday present from Miss Lovell.”

Harge took a swig of beer and the bubbles made him cough, spewing a bit of beer from the corner of his mouth. Carol laughed and pulled some paper napkins from the picnic basket to pass to him. “Thanks,” he muttered once he swallowed, then wiped his chin. “You always call her ‘Miss Lovell.’ Surely she has a first name.”

Carol took quick note of where they were. It was where she and Harrie liked to come to get away from their roommates and have some privacy, even if it was in the middle of the outdoors. She couldn’t even remember the number of times the two of them had come out to that spot with their blankets, books, and snacks. Curling up, just the two of them in the sunshine. Occasionally in the rain, but even then Harrie would toss the wool blanket over the two of them to make a temporary cocoon until the rain seeped through and they became soaked as well. 

“It's Harriet.”

“That's honestly quite the present from Harriet.”

“She’s a very generous person.”

“I’ll say. Even my parents still take the train down to Palm Beach. She must really… well, she must really like spending time with you.” 

Carol tried to smile back, but she was too tired to feign interest in conversation with Harge. She looked around empty countryside with its tall grass and leafy trees, liking the light warmth and shaded area where they say. She wished it was Harrie sitting on the blanket with her, mindlessly reading through a book or making notes on something while Carol would slip off her shoe and run her foot up and down the side of her leg until it tickled her so badly she’d lose focus. All she had next to her that day was Harge staring back at her with his slicked back hair and a concerned look. 

“Carol? Are you okay?”

Carol snapped back to Harge and pried the beer bottle from his hand to take a sip, not really caring what he thought of her doing that. “I, uh, I had my last exam today, so I’m sorry to not be more… chatty.”

“Oh,” he immediately said, “I'm sorry. I wouldn’t have come up here today had I known.”

“No, I’m glad you’re here. I needed a distraction for the afternoon and didn't feel like being by myself. I appreciate it. It’s just, I’m exhausted.” 

Carol flopped backward onto the blanket and looked up into the blue nothingness of the sky until her eyes felt too heavy to keep open. Moments later, she felt bristles against her cheek and an unfamiliar pair of lips on hers. As soon as it started though, Carol opened her eyes and Harge sat up, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck and turning away from her. “I'm sorry. I don't know why... I mean, I know why it's… “

“Don't.” Carol squirmed a few inches away, trying to gauge Harge's reaction. 

He was genuinely apologetic, and did back away from her just as much as Carol had moved away from him. “I'm sorry,” he again mentioned, purposely not looking at her and incredibly embarrassed. 

“Don't,” she sternly warned him, “don't do that again.”

“I'm not a very good kisser.”

“No, Harge, it’s not that,” Carol explained, even though she roughly figured that was also the case. Not that the kiss had gone on long enough for her to make a full assessment, nor did she actually want to know. Nor did she want to try again to see if her first impressions were correct. “It's - “

“Is it because I don't kiss like her?”

A moment passed so Carol could catch her breath. She looked straight at him, not seeing any anger or jealousy, only honesty. Clearly he knew and couldn’t keep that fact to himself any longer. Clearly he also liked Carol and couldn't keep that himself any longer either. There was no use denying anything to him, no use lying about it. “You don’t,” she plainly answered.

“I can’t say I know too many friends who buy each other airplane tickets like that, or do things together the way you two do.”

“How long have you known?”

He smiled, not looking smug in his assessment but smiled because he remembered being at the house with the two of them and having a nice afternoon by the pool, drinking lemonade Harrie had made, and talking to both of them about school, travels, and the movies. They were both so nice and so kind to him, even though Harge could sense that Harrie didn’t fully understand why he would show up at the house the way he did. She was still pleasant to him and they all had a nice time. “Last summer, when I stopped by and it was only the two of you playing cricket in the garden, Harriet's white pants had, um… grass stains… at the knees, and you… your skirt… and your lipstick - both of your lipsticks - I'm not going to tell anybody if that's what you're worried about. I mean, it’s no one’s business but yours, Carol.”

“Well if you know, why do you… waste your time on someone like me? Why keep taking me out like this?”

Harge shrugged then fixed his tie and ran his fingers through his hair, waiting a good while before opening his mouth. “Carol, you're not a waste of time. You're a very good friend. I mean it. You're smart and you're nice and… interesting, a lot more interesting than me. I know interesting sounds kinda daft, but you know lots of fascinating things and talk really well about them. I can go riding at the country club with my mother or play golf with my dad or clients, but no one's really listens to me way you do. You listen. And, I guess, I'm… lonely?”

Carol looked at Harge. There was a sadness to him, not a sadness in searching for the sympathy of others, but a sadness Carol could understand because she knew how that felt over the past ten months. She couldn’t imagine always having felt like that, the way Harge must have felt.

“I've been lonely too,” she admitted.

“Sorry I kissed you.”

“I understand, and it's fine.” It came out almost automatically, without having to think about why she gave such a dismissive reply. Carol paused then began to shake her head. “No, it’s not fine. I didn’t want you to do that, and you ought to have asked, especially since you - know - about… For the record, I still would have said no. I accept your apology, Harge.”

“Again, I’m sorry, Carol.” Harge tentatively smiled at her and lay down on the blanket, opening his arms and wondering if she would accept. “Would this be okay? I won’t try anything.” 

She hesitated, realizing nothing would come of any of this and it had been so long since anyone had held her. Only a couple more weeks until you see Harrie, she told herself. In all honesty, Harge was just as lonely as she. “Just don’t… don’t say anything and mind your damn hands,” she added as she settled against his shoulder and he draped an arm over her, mindful not to touch anywhere other than the top of her shoulder. Carol wrapped her arms around her own waist and shut her eyes.

Within moments, they had both fallen asleep and both felt a little less lonely until raindrops woke them up.

Wednesday, July 3rd, 1941  
8:50 a.m.

“Argh, son of a bitch,” Harrie grunted as she walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom across the hall, “remind me that I can't be apart from you for this long again because now we’re no longer synchronized.” She tugged at the loose, unbuttoned pajama top she wore, wrapping it tighter around her as she entered the room.

“It’s a myth,” Carol insisted as she looked up from her book, albeit with a completely sympathetic scowl. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. The usual,” she murmured as she walked to the dresser to get something then return to the bathroom. Harrie didn't shut the door, only puttered around and let the faucet run.

“You sure?” Carol shouted from the comfort of the bed.

“I'm okay!” Harrie said over the sound of running water, splashing it on her face from the sound of it. Once the water turned off, Carol heard footsteps cross the hallway and scamper back into the bedroom. She noticed Harrie had tried to pull her hair up and back as best she could, but it was too short in parts that resulted in strands of hair still falling down the back of her neck.

Carol knew she was also too warm and getting too grumpy in the heat. “Pull back your hair and get it off your neck,” suggested Carol, sitting up in bed and making a spot for Harrie. She put her bookmark inside the copy of _The Hobbit_ that she had pilfered from Harrie’s bookshelf and placed it beside the bed near her water glass.

“I tried!” she whined as she sat on the bed with her back to Carol.

“You are fussier than Jack,” Carol murmured, wrapping her arms around Harrie’s waist. She kissed the side of her face, just to the right of her ear, then nuzzled her nose against her soft skin and vellus hairs, which made Harrie laugh and squirm. “How are you ticklish there?”

“No idea,” she admitted, “but Sid’s even worse. He curls into a ball like a hedgehog.” Harrie laughed for a moment, however soon turned very quiet, thinking about her brother and James, hoping they were both alright wherever they were. 

Carol squeezed her a little tighter, then untied Harrie's hair, doing her best to pull it back to get off her neck. “Well, what can I do for you? I could surprise you, but I’d like to know what you would specifically like.” Lowering her lips to the exposed nape, she kissed the spot once, leaving her lips still against Harrie's skin. Carol let her hands fall back to the top of Harrie's bare thighs where she traced nonsensical patterns onto her leg.

“One: Kiss me upon request. Two: Maybe make some of those Chocolate Crunch Cookies? But bigger than usual, maybe twice the size? Three: Cuddle me. Even though it's too warm, I'd still like your arms around me.”

Carol raised her lips from Harrie's neck just far enough to clearly speak. “If I make cookies, you can't be cuddled at the same time. I've only got two hands,” Carol pointed out. She pressed her lips back to the side of Harrie's neck, then let her hands wander up to spread open her pajama top to caress her breasts. “Besides, these hands are already well engaged,” Carol mumbled as she teased her with her hands and kissed everywhere she could along her neck and shoulders.

It was easy for Carol to distract Harrie that way and the two of them stayed wrapped up quietly enjoying each other’s company. After a moment, Harrie slumped against her, relaxing into her arms and softly moaning, perfectly content. “You're still baking cookies later though, right?” she asked about five minutes into the comfortable silence.

“I am, and you can eat all of them in one go, still warm, with a glass of milk for all I care. Because I love you, Harriet, and Heaven forbid I ever get any kind of back pain or cramping like you do, and I'm on my own.”

“You wouldn’t be, I’d never let that happen.” Harrie turned her head to kiss Carol’s cheek.

* * *

Right before bed, Carol very happily relaxed her head against the rim of the bathtub, surrounded by cool water, her arms around Harrie, who chewed on a large warm cookie in her hand, occasionally offering Carol a bite and requesting kisses. Carol didn’t hesitate for a second to tell her how lovingly spoiled she was.

Saturday, December 20th, 1941  
1:45 p.m.

Carol could sleep through anything. If four years of boarding school and three-and-a-half years of college had taught her anything, it was that roommates were irrelevant when ultimately necessary and that a sleeping mask was just as essential a back-to-school supply as a notebook. There was only thing she couldn’t sleep through, no matter what.

That was Harrie kissing her awake and crawling into bed next to her.

Harrie couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take another ten-month stretch without seeing Carol. A few days before classes ended, she left San Francisco with a single bag and headed East. 

In the days before she left, she stopped at a jewelry store to see if they had any extra gift boxes. A big one. Not too big though. Rectangular if possible. Size of a piece of paper folded into thirds. Big enough to fit in a jacket pocket. A men’s jacket pocket, she blatantly clarified. Flat. Velvet-lined. Room to hold multiple items.

“Don’t you want something to put in the box?” the woman behind the counter eagerly inquired. Harrie replied that she was only tasked with procuring the box and wasn’t responsible for its contents. That ceased any further questioning from the saleslady.

Next stop was the hardware store. Followed by the stationery shop on Market. Then the bank. Then the other bank. Last stop was the travel agency. 

“We might still have some of those,” mumbled the clerk, “but, honestly, we threw most of them out. Lemme check if we kept any as souvenirs.” It didn’t matter how outdated, she’d take whatever they had.

Thursday morning, she showed up at Carol’s room, kicked off her heels, crawled over Carol into the tiny empty space on her twin bed and immediately kissed every part of exposed skin on her face that wasn’t covered by her sleeping mask. Soon, Harrie noticed a mischievous grin form from Carol’s lips and a deep inhale of what was undoubtedly a familiar and beloved scent. All Carol could do was cry and smile as she clung to her, never in a hundred years expecting Harrie to have made the journey for Christmas. Not with everything going on. 

The Cloisters were oddly quiet for a Saturday, but figuring it was the last Saturday before Christmas and everyone else would be out along bustling Fifth Avenue buying last-minute gifts, no one was interested in going to a museum. More than that, no one was interested in going to a museum that involved being outside days before the start of winter simply to look at the medieval architecture and gardens with no bloom. They had practically the entire place to themselves. No prying eyes, no screaming children, nothing to distract the two of them from each other and their wandering around.

“What if all of the things I have been studying, all those paintings, sculptures, and buildings, are destroyed? What if they disappear? What if no one ever sees any of it again?” Carol mused as they walked beside each other underneath the portico. “Sorry, I know it must sound insensitive to you. I’m talking about things when - ”

“You’re fine,” she replied. “I dunno. If grad school’s taught me anything so far, I’m the chemist who will probably make the concoction that will make it all explode.” Harrie was quiet for a while, walking silently beside her and brushing her arm against Carol as she wished she could take her hand. “Think of all the people and places though no one might ever see again. London will never be the same, that's for sure. We forget how easy we got it over here with two big oceans on either side of us.”

Carol walked toward the ledge and looked out onto the courtyard. She slinked her left arm around a column and kept it there until the cold from the stone permeated her coat. “What if this is as close as we ever get?”

“It might be. Then again, maybe it’ll be alright someday,” Harrie said. “It'll take time though, and I'd take you. In a heartbeat.” She looked at where Carol’s left hand rested, gloved and tapping against the column, idly moving to its own beat as she took in the mostly bare garden. “Could I give you one of your Christmas presents now?” asked Harrie as she looked back at Carol.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re carrying around a Christmas present in your purse?”

Harrie patted down her coat, feeling around for where the gift was safely tucked inside the breast pocket and then glanced back to Carol. “It’s in my jacket pocket, actually.”

Carol walked past Harrie, then looked back over her shoulder. “No, I’ll wait. Unwrapping you Thursday morning was enough of a gift, don’t you think?” 

Harrie sighed and stopped moving, watching her walk a few steps ahead. She sat down on one of the railings, resting against a column as Carol got farther and farther away, admiring Carol's legs, all the way from the seams of her stockings on up to the hem of her dark grey wool coat where the lines disappeared. Sometimes, depending on how Carol moved, Harrie could see her plaid skirt peek out, or if she actually had to lift a leg up high enough to avoid a patch of ice or small bank of snow, her slip. It wasn't like she had no idea what she had on beneath it, but it was hint of it when they were out in public, how sometimes men would look and all Harrie could think of - aside from how crude their stares were to begin with - was how that gorgeous woman, Carol, was going home with her at the end of the day. That that very jacket, that plaid skirt, that slip, that blouse with its two extra undone buttons would find their way onto a hook in the entryway or into an organized pile on their shared bedroom floor. That those lips, with a hint of red, would be mingling with her own, or lower to the hollow of her throat, or even lower to the space between her breasts, or lower yet.

Moments later, Carol must have sensed that Harrie was no longer behind her. Again, she turned around and watched as Harrie swung her legs from her elevated seat. “I don't know if you're supposed to be sitting on that 13th-century stonework.” She walked back to where Harrie was seated, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was around, and then reached up to act as though she was smoothing down the lapels of her jacket and adjusting the collar. She stood as closely as would seem presentable in public between Harrie's legs and removed a couple of her own blonde hairs that stood out on the fabric of her dark coat.

“My coat’s fine.”

“I'm just looking for an excuse to touch you,” Carol softly whispered.

“You’re just feeling around for that present because your curiosity is gonna get the best of you.”

Carol removed another of her hairs from the shoulder of Harrie's coat, clearly stuck onto the side where she had rested her head during the drive over. “Would you take me to Europe? When it's all over?”

Harrie looked from side to side, checking if anyone was around and stuck her legs straight out, then curled them around Carol's to pull her closer. She shrieked as she lunged forward, catching her balance by pressing her hands to either side of Harrie's lapels. “Certainly I'll take you. First-Class where we can lock ourselves away in our stateroom with all our meals brought to us. Occasionally getting out to play shuffleboard with some elderly couple from Ohio. We’ll go everywhere we want to, with you as my talented, sexy translator and pointer-outer of masterpieces.”

“And what will be your role?”

“I look cute holding all the maps and do all the currency conversion arithmetic in my head while you educate me.” Harrie pulled one of the hands pressing against her to her lips before dropping it back where it had been. “I can introduce you to my dad who I know you'll say is charming just like me and my nan who's not really like me, but who I will probably be in sixty some odd years. You can see the house - the estate, I ought to say - in a part of the country where I assure you there are only cranky English tourists going to the baths and locals with accents far, far more memorable than mine.”

“ _Fah_.”

“You never tire of that, do you?” Carol grinned and shook her head. “I really think you should open your present early.”

“No, I'll wait until Christmas.”

“I promise it'll be well worth your while.”

“I’m just so happy I’m here with you, Harriet. If anything, this is the most memorable present you could give me.”

10:45 p.m.

Harrie stood at the window, looking out at the snow-covered grounds which were slowly fading away as the sun set. Nursing her glass of ginger ale she looked outside, then occasionally glanced back indoors to observe the crowd. It was a small party, all friends of Abby’s, a few people Carol knew as well from growing up. Her stomach was queasy and she felt out of place amongst this group of old acquaintances. Many of them were paired off and dancing together, or merely old friends chatting amongst themselves.

Despite it being Abby’s own party, she seemed a bit excluded from her own partygoers. She fit in with them just fine, nonetheless she wasn’t entirely engaged with any one person in particular and didn’t seem to have a fellow there with her either.

“Harriet, don’t you like to dance?” Harrie turned to see Abby standing next to her, holding two Champagne Cocktails in her hand and grinning. She held one of the drinks out to Harrie who hesitated a moment, ultimately accepting the drink and placing the half-filled glass of ginger ale on the table behind her.

“I do,” Harrie replied as she held up the glass to toast with Abby.

“But?”

“No ‘but.’ I like to dance. Not at the moment though, thanks.” Abby looked behind them at the table with hors d’œuvres, spotting the tray of cigarettes she had left out. She brought two around and offered one to Harrie, who declined. “No, thank you.”

“Don’t smoke. Don’t dance. Don’t really seem to drink,” Abby sneered. “Probably don’t - “

Harrie shook her head in disbelief. “Trust me, I have my vices as much as anyone. Just ask Carol,” she snickered, “she says I have a foul mouth.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you two meet? Because from what I hear, it doesn’t sound as though you two would have had too many overlapping classes.”

“I met her at the movies in town. Up at school.” She didn’t want to talk about Carol or relay any of their private history despite talking to Carol’s oldest and dearest friend. Before she said anything more, Harrie shifted the focus of the conversation back to Abby. “What is it you do since you’ve already graduated?”

“I'm an entomologist. Creepy crawlies. Bugs and dirty little things. I'm getting out of it though, going to find something better to do because it’s more like research assistant who answers to ‘whistle’ than research assistant who actually gets things done.”

“You sound like Jean Arthur’s character in _Mr. Smith_.”

Abby shrugged. “Sad, but true. I don't need it though. I got - “ Any gestured with her hands towards the room filled with people, music playing, the house, everything around them. “ - all this. What about you? Carol vaguely mentioned something about you mixing chemicals for fun… “

“I'm working on my Ph.D. in chemistry. Berkeley.”

“Well, that's something. And you're all the way out here for Christmas, not even here to see a fellow?” Abby looked her up and down, desperately trying assess her. Needless to say, Harrie was trying to do the same but not as obviously as Abby was. There was laughter coming from the dance floor, interrupting Abby’s train of thought, and they both looked up to see Carol laughing after being dipped by a young man; the pair of them angling their heads in unison to admire the visibility of her décolletage from where they stood. Remembering where she was, Harrie stopped glaring turned to Abby who was still shamelessly staring. It wasn’t as though anyone had their eyes on her or Abby, not when Carol looked so beautiful and graceful out there dancing. Once Abby felt a set of eyes on her, she stopped and without looking over to Harrie started speaking again. “I suppose with the war on and a background like yours, you're going to find yourself engaged in any number of more fascinating government projects than a certain someone.”

“Perhaps,” Harrie admitted, not wanting to think about school and sitting in the lab day after day. She downed the remainder of her drink as she watched Carol finish dancing with the young man. “Men aren't a priority of mine at the moment. I mean, why get involved with someone who might be heading overseas, never to come back? I don’t think my heart could handle it.”

Abby began smoking the second cigarette she had, turning around again to the table to find the matches. “Logical in matters of love. I admire that.” 

“You probably think me cold.”

“No, you're a scientist like me. Forthright even if no one wants to hear it. Look what happened in the last war. I don't blame you for a second.” Using her glass she pointed to a couple chatting by the fireplace. “See those two? They got hitched a couple days ago. He's joined up and heads out next week. Poor bastard. And those two? That redhead and the blond fellow? They're getting married on Wednesday.”

“Times of war don't always produce rational decision makers, or rational decisions for that matter,” Harrie commented.

“Gonna be a lot of widows again, if you ask me. Not to mention a slew of kids born nine months from now who’ll grow up without their father,” Abby sighed and quickly changed the subject, again raising her glass up toward Harrie’s ear. “Those are some lovely earrings you got there.”

Harrie flicked her finger up to touch her earlobe and the pearl earring, grinning at the memory of sitting in Carol's lap when she gave them to her. “Thank you. They were a birthday present.”

“Whomever gave you those certainly knows their stuff.”

When the dance ended, Carol looked around the room to find Harrie, noticing immediately that she was engaged in a conversation with Abby. She laughed to herself as she walked over, catching the tail end of whatever the two of them had been talking about. It still took a moment for her to realize that Abby had changed over the past few years. Physically, at least. She was almost girly even, Carol thought, no longer the tomboy climbing trees and making little homes of dirt, leaves, and twigs for the caterpillars she found in the yard. Deep down, there was still the same sardonic wit and accompanying eye rolls that Carol liked so much about her. At first glance when she and Harrie had arrived, she nearly didn’t recognize her from a distance and had to do a double take. She wasn’t strutting around anymore, smoking the cigarette she had always tucked behind her ear, or wearing those knickerbockers and vests she had been so fond of during vacations from boarding school.

As Carol walked over to where Abby and Harrie stood, she heard the two of them discussing something science-related and swayed her attention away from the conversation until Abby nudged her with her elbow. “We have to keep it down after eleven or those bastard neighbors will start complaining. Have either of you got the time?” 

“Do the Treadways still live there?” asked Carol.

“They do,” Abby groaned, “and all their goddamn beagles. They’re ones to talk.” 

Harrie patted down the side of her dress, feeling for the pocket where her shiny watch was tucked inside. As she opened her mouth to read off the time once the cover was released from the clasp, the silver glimmer from the watch stood out and caught Abby’s eye. “Holy smokes, would you look at that.” Abby pulled it from Harrie’s hand and inspected the faceplate and the inside cover where she spotted the inscription. Her eyebrow arched at the sight of it, then looked up at Harrie, then to Carol. She passed it back to Harrie without saying a word, even winked at her before resuming the tirade against the neighbors and their beagles that kept everyone up. 

Harrie drifted off, thinking about other things, like Carol and how lovely she had looked dancing out there. She wished the two of them could do that. They could, but it wouldn't be like at home where they could be pressed against each other or how if they wanted, they could tango to one of Harrie's imported records and behave exactly as they wanted to.

“Maybe you two should have the last dance together and keep Miss Scarlett over here from all these beaux who ought to be dancing with all those ladies who aren’t actually taken.” As Abby spoke, she waved her cigarette around, getting smoke in Harrie's eyes and making her cough. “Not like she’s goin’ home with any of them tonight, right?”

Carol was oblivious to any of Abby’s comments, drinking the rest of Harrie's ginger ale from earlier, and just as she finished the drink, Harrie quickly dragged her by the hand toward the other couples dancing, pretending as though she hadn’t heard what Abby had said. Neither Carol or Harrie said a word as they joined the others. There were several women dancing together, not necessarily because they were couples, although Harrie could have sworn some of them might have been, but the lack of men present was especially noticeable during the last song. No one paid any attention to the two of them dancing together, even if the last song of the evening was a slow one. Except for Abby. Abby stood at the side, smoking another cigarette and watching her childhood friend dance with her new best friend. 

“It’s not like dancing in the parlor together, is it?” Harrie whispered.

“No, and I hate leaving so much space between us. Santa Claus could pass right through here and we’d never even know,” she laughed. While she might have joked about the space between them, Carol did attempt to close it just a little by shifting closer to Harrie. Leaning forward, but not too close that her lips were next to Harrie’s ear. “You’re the prettiest and wittiest girl here,” Carol remarked before switching to the other ear, “and I get to go home with you.”

“Oh, stop,” Harrie laughed, lightly and subtly pinching Carol’s hip as she held onto her. “Don't you know every guy here - and probably most of the girls too - have been watching you all night long?”

“I couldn't tell. You're the only one I've noticed.”

“I wish we weren’t wearing these damn gloves.”

“You can touch my hands and anything else you want when we get home. I’d say in the car, but it’s cold and pretty sure we'll require gloves in the car too.”

“Just so happens I know a pretty good place beneath your dress to warm them up,” she gingerly teased. Harrie looked over at Abby, who was clearly watching the two of them dance together, expressionless and smoking a third cigarette. “Why didn’t you tell me Abby is…. “

“Abby’s what?” Carol looked at her. “Impossible? Impertinent? Imprudent? She’s a character with some bite. Don’t mind her.”

Harrie squeezed their joined hands together and said, “No, I mean… ”

Carol scrunched her face, utterly confused, while looking at Harrie and shook her head, then looked back over to where Abby now stood chatting with another girl Carol did not know. “That’s just how she is. Trust me. I’ve known her since I was four.”

“She’s been throwing daggers all night. I think she’s jealous. Really, really jealous.” Harrie looked back over at Abby as they turned around on the dance floor. They briefly made eye contact before Harrie turned back to Carol. “Carol, she knows that I know exactly what you look like in the all-together.”

“Impossible. Impossible that she would know. Not impossible that you actually do know,” she chuckled. 

As the music ended and everyone clapped for the five musicians, Carol and Harrie stood still holding onto one another as everyone’s attention was focused on the band. Angling her head, Carol grinned as she whispered into Harrie's ear, “How about you take me home, pour me a glass of that ridiculously good ‘29 Bordeaux you found in the basement, and… use your imagination on how and where you want to see me in the all-together?” Harrie bit her lip as Carol's hands smoothed down her side as they moved apart. “I know it's all you've been able to think about this entire time,” she hinted. “Besides, I might even consider opening that present early… “

Just before they turned out the lights to go to bed, Harrie smiled as she buttoned up her pajamas and looked at the crumpled, yet organized, pile of their discarded clothing in front of the fireplace.

Sunday, December 21st, 1941  
9:50 a.m.

Carol woke to her feet being kicked by a very pointed shoe. “Did you forget we were coming over or something?” Elaine prodded again with her shoe, instead poking Harrie who popped her head out from the blankets of their makeshift bed. “Why are you sleeping down here like this?”

“I’m up, I’m up.” Carol shook Harrie, making sure she was also awake. “It was too cold upstairs and this fireplace was bigger. It’s not like there’s been a fuel delivery anytime lately. Harrie and I chopped all that over there yesterday.” She pointed towards the overflowing firewood rack.

“Could you two look after Jack until tomorrow morning? You are so good with him. Both of you. Grandpa’s… they've got their hands full with the other two,“ she sighed. “I have to go to the - “ Carol waved her hand, dismissing whatever she had to say. She didn’t have to hear Elaine’s excuses for leaving Jack with her, not after she had to drive more than a hour to drop him there with her, so it must have been for a good reason.

“Has he eaten?”

“Yes, but he’ll want lunch soon.”

“Okay, by the time we’re up and ready, it’ll be lunchtime. We’ll take good care of Jack, won’t we, Carol?”

Calmly, Jack came into the room with his teddy bear in hand, but as soon as he spotted Carol and Harrie in what appeared to be the most comfortable, low-to-the-ground bed imaginable, he ran towards them and pounced down on the covers. “Aunt Carol! Auntie Harrie!” Harrie’s cheeks reddened, not sure if Elaine knew how her youngest son always called her that. Jack didn’t care, he wrapped his arms around each of them then moved off the bed when his mother complained about his shoes on the blankets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Bye bye, Jackie!” 

With that, Elaine rushed out the door, not saying goodbye to Carol or hugging Jack who was too engaged with Harrie. Jack paid no attention to his mother, instead sitting on the makeshift bed and tracing the outline of the “HL” on Harrie’s mostly buttoned pajama top and repeating the letters to her aloud. As she still held onto Jack, Harrie watched as Elaine rushed away from them and out the door. “Sometimes, I think if we asked your sister nicely, she’d let us keep him.” 

“I don’t think we would have to ask,” Carol dryly remarked. “Then again, I'd hate if eighty years from now for Jack's dying words to be 'Rosebud’ because we took him away from his sled and his mother at a tender age.”

“You saying that, that only makes me love you more,” Harrie cooed.

“Do you think she's having an affair or is she just disinterested?” Harrie didn’t react to her comment, watching how Jack lay down on his back across their laps with his little feet hanging over the top of Harrie's thighs. As soon as she heard the car pull away, Carol turned to Harrie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Harriet, darling.”

“Morning, gorgeous.” Harrie raised her hand to caress Carol's cheek then very briefly kissed her back on the lips. 

“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Jack repeated, giggling as he looked up at the two of them over his bear’s head.

“Oh no, he and Teddy are on to us!” teased Harrie. Carol wrapped an arm around Jack and he smiled up at them, very happy to be with his two loving aunts.

Monday, December 22nd, 1941  
10:45 a.m.

There weren't many items to be boxed up in the house, however there were enough tiny items sitting around for sorting and either brought to Greenwich or donated. Harrie found herself swiping her arm across a shelf of non-breakable items and dumping everything into a box, then depositing the dusty box in front of Carol who would sort items into those to keep or those to donate. 

“Any others?” Carol asked as Harrie brought in another box. 

“I think that's it.” Harrie turned her back for a second as Jack creeped behind her to swipe something from one of the boxes. “No, Jack!” Once more, he ran off with an old Brownie camera placed in the Carol’s keep pile as Harrie chased him around the downstairs. Harrie ran after him and found Jack sitting at the bottom of the staircase laughing and clutching the camera. “Jack, what are you doing?”

“Mine!”

“No, sweetheart, that's not yours. That belongs to your Aunt Carol.” 

“No!”

Harrie held out her hand and tried to take the camera from him, but he wouldn't budge. “Come on, Jack. Please?”

“Mine!” he again giggled.

“Alright,” said Harrie, throwing her hands in the air and beginning to walk away. “I guess no piggyback rides this afternoon or story tonight. Or Ginger Jacks at teatime.”

“No, Auntie Harrie, no.” He sounded defeated and immediately held out the camera for Harrie to take. As he held it out, dangling from his little hand, the carrying handle across the top snapped and broke off, causing the camera to tumble to the ground and hit the stone floor. “Uh oh,” he muttered.

Harrie stooped down to look at the camera and picked up the box and the handle. She didn't know anything about cameras, but her best guess was that it was broken, and not just the handle. “It’s alright. Let’s go get one of your toys in the other room, okay?”

When she returned to where Carol sat sorting through the last box, Harrie held out the camera. “I broke the strap,” she lied, not wanting Jack to get in trouble.

Carol looked up to assess the damage and shrugged. “That's okay. Toss it in the donate pile then.” She was getting overwhelmed with the amount of trivial items her family seemed to have left in the house. Elaine couldn’t be bothered to sort through everything herself. There was nothing in the house that she wanted to keep.

“Darling, could you please do a tremendous favor? There's a letter that must to be delivered to the children's home down the road. Do you think you could drop that off along with the box of this here? I’d say we’d all go, but I don't want to take Jack there.”

Harrie nodded and looked to see how many items had been stuffed inside. It was manageable with one trip. She tossed the Brownie with the broken strap into the box, closing the top by tucking the corners under themselves. 

“What time will you be back?”

Pulling the watch from her pocket, Harrie checked the time and thought. “Shouldn't be more than an hour. When I get back, how about I take the two of you for lunch?”

“We'll be ready!”

Harrie walked to the entryway to get her coat, scarf, and hat, unable to find her gloves. “Carol, you seen my gloves?” 

“Check your pockets!”

Harrie felt inside her coat, pleased find them there. “Got 'em!” She put them on then slung her purse over her shoulder and headed to the door. Picking up the box that was directly in front of the entry door, she shouted back, “Heading out!”

Carol ran to open the door for her, keeping one hand on the doorknob until she noticed Harrie hadn't tightened her scarf. “You'll catch a cold, or worse, the flu, then everyone will get the flu.” She let go of the door and reached both hands up to fix her scarf. “There. It's icy, so drive safely please. We'll be ready when you get back.” Carol pulled her forward by the chin, tilting Harrie toward to kiss her over the box in her hands. She brushed the curls away from her face, smiling because they were always blocking the lips she wanted so badly to kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too, gorgeous.”

11:15 a.m.

“Take a seat and she’ll be right with you.”

Harrie settled on one of the benches outside the office, crossing her legs and quietly waiting. St. Margaret’s was the most depressing place she had ever been. Even visiting the slums of the North End were better than this; at least there it was lively and filled with all sorts of people who had smiles on their faces despite their situations. She flexed her ankle back and forth, watching her foot move in step with the music in her mind. For a moment, she wished she had brought a book or a newspaper with a crossword puzzle, anything really. Perhaps there was something she could pilfer from the donation box to pass the time. Harrie leaned in to look in the box, starting to unfold one of the corners, when one of the sisters approached, accompanied by a little girl.

“You. Sit there,” the sister sternly commanded.

Harrie looked up from the box, thinking someone was speaking to her. One of the sisters was shuffling a little girl toward the bench opposite her. Her hair was ridiculously done in curls, one of the ribbons undone and dangling around her ear, her knee scraped, and her dress ripped around the shoulder. She avoided all eye contact, keeping her gaze to the ground and the buckles of her shoes. Harrie had to stifle a bit of a laugh when the sister was still present. What on earth could such a seemingly shy little kid have possibly done to have had that bad of a scuffle?

“Are you in trouble too?” the little girl asked the moment the sister walked away from them.

“No, just dropping off some things,” Harrie answered and pointed to the box next to her. She had to ask. “What happened to you?”

“George tried to kiss me, so I pushed him.”

Harrie looked down the hall to see no one was around. “Good for you,” she enthusiastically cheered.

“The sisters don’t think so. They said it’s my fault he’s now in the infirmary because his arm got hurt.”

“Did he try to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you want to kiss him?”

“No.”

“Then he certainly had it coming.” Harrie winked to make her feel at ease. She knew the moment the girl went in to talk to the headmistress, she’d probably be hearing otherwise with explanations like “boys will be boys” or “someday you will think differently.” Poor kid, she thought to herself, she’ll be hearing those excuses throughout her life. She silently thanked her father and Sid who always told her otherwise.

The two sat quietly on opposite benches as they waited. The entire complex was eerily still for an establishment with so many children on the property, only days before Christmas. Then again, perhaps Christmases there weren't the most cheerful there despite the attempts at hanging angels and trees from the windows. Harrie peered down to the girl’s scraped knee which was still bleeding. Harrie pointed to her knee and back up at the girl, “Did anyone look at that?”

The little girl looked down at her knee, noticing that it was still bleeding a little. “No.”

“Does it hurt?” The little girl looked at her knee again and nodded yes in reply. “Assholes,” Harrie muttered under her breath, hoping she couldn’t make out what she had said. She opened her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. “Let’s clean you up, okay?”

“Will it hurt more?”

“Nah, you’ll be fine.” She remembered the pack of Juicy Fruit in her purse and opened her bag again to pull out the gum. “Here.” Harrie pulled a stick of gum from the pack and handed it to the girl. “Chew on that, alright?”

“We’re not supposed to chew gum.”

“Girls here apparently aren’t supposed to push a boy who wants to kiss them, even when asked not to.”

It took a moment, but when the little girl realized what Harrie said, she smiled and started to fumble with the shiny wrapper. 

“Is there a bubbler here?”

“What?”

“Er, water fountain.”

The little girl pointed around the corner and Harrie walked over to the water fountain in an alcove and wet part of the cloth, leaving some of it dry so she could pat it down when she finished washing the scrape. She knelt down in front her, lifting the edge of her dress enough to not get the hem wet when she applied the handkerchief and pressed it. 

“You talk funny.”

“I get that a lot. More than you think,” Harrie smirked, remembering every occasion in which Carol did not hesitate to mimic her saying words like lobster or card. “There. Does that hurt at all?”

“No,” the little girl replied smacking on the gum.

“Okay, hold that there and let me see if I have something else.” Harrie went back to her purse to look for a small tin of salve she usually carried on her for her hands. It wasn’t the best thing to use, but it would at least seal some of the tiny scrapes even if only temporarily. “My name’s Harriet; you can call me Harrie though. What’s yours?”

“Therese.”

“That’s a very pretty name, just like the name of a character in a book I read once.” She opened the tin and put a dollop on her finger to then warm before applying to her knee. 

“She had my name?” The little girl's eyes lit up; probably never before had anyone in a book shared the same name as her, Harrie thought.

“Yup, her name was Thérèse Raquin.”

“Was it a good book?”

Harrie laughed to herself, remembering the torment of having to read it for class. “If you like that sort of thing. It’s a sad one though because Thérèse is unhappy with the people in her life and doesn’t know what to do, so she - ” Harrie quickly stopped talking, realizing she was beginning to explain a very depressing and very adult story to a child, and began to chuckle. “Just, don’t read it. Unless you like studying personalities and people.”

She took another moment to observe the little girl, happily chewing on the sugary gum. “You know, no one’s going to outright tell you this, but you don’t have to kiss boys if you don’t want to,” Harrie whispered as she worked the salve into her skin. “Or anyone for that matter.”

“What if I want to kiss a girl?”

“A girl?” Harrie didn't mean to sound so surprised and immediately stopped massaging in the ointment to look up at Therese who had spoken without any hesitation or shame. “That’s alright,” Harrie calmly said in a low voice, trying to hide a grin, “as long as she’s okay with you kissing her back.” 

Harrie stood up and walked back to her seat. “Does that feel better?” she asked, trying to change the topic. 

“Yes, thank you.”

Almost as soon as Harrie sat back down, one of the sisters appeared in the doorway. “Miss Lovell?” Harrie looked up at the young woman standing there, shifting to the right so Harrie could enter without rapping her knuckles against the doorframe as she carried the box. “Thank you for waiting. Miss Ross phoned and said you would be coming by. She’ll see you now.” 

Harrie picked up the box of toys and turned back to the little girl with a smile. “Nice meeting you, Therese. Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you, Harrie.” She grinned back at her, patting her pocket with the forbidden packet of chewing gum. “Merry Christmas.”

12:05 p.m.

There was another car in the driveway when Harrie pulled up to the house. A fancy black car with New Jersey plates sitting out front with a chauffeur, one she didn’t recognize. When she walked by, the driver tipped his hat to acknowledge her and Harrie nodded back.

The house was awfully quiet as she opened the door door. Usually Jack would come running up to her, or Carol would appear from nowhere to see if she could help her carry something in since her arms were almost always full. No one came to the door to greet her though. She headed toward the living room, not seeing anyone, then the parlor, where there was also no one. 

There were people in the solarium though as Harrie noted, looking through the smudged glass. There were white streaks from the cleaning solution the window washers had used, not taking the time to clean it off properly months before. It was dirty, imperfect, distorted, however even with the distortion, what was happening through the window came through clearly.

There Harge was on one knee. Holding a small box.

And there was Carol. 

Harrie watched her mouth, noticing how her lips did not curl to punctuate the end of the word no; instead, she saw how her jaw pulled back slightly to form a different word entirely.

She saw how Harge stood up with a grin on his face, and wrapped his arms around her.

She saw Carol smiling, albeit nervously, and returning the kiss before putting her arms around his shoulders. 

Harrie took a few steps backwards, turning her head to see where she had placed her jacket, forgetting that she hadn’t taken the time to remove it. Her thoughts kept getting foggy, her eyes welled with tears, her legs trembled, her heart raced. She had to leave. She didn’t want to yell at Carol. She didn’t want to confront Harge. She didn’t want to hurt either of them. She knew she was too angry to react, but if there was ever a time to react, if ever a time to get upset, this was it, she tried to tell herself. Harrie’s small suitcase still sat upstairs at the foot of the bed, mostly packed except for some books and the clothing she had been wearing the day before. 

Maybe after all this time, they actually didn’t know each other in the first place. Maybe all this time apart had inextricably been the cause because it looked as though Carol hadn’t hesitated at all when Harge kissed her. She wasn’t going to be laughed at by the two them.

Without a sound, Harrie went upstairs to the bedroom where she took off her coat, placing it on the bed beside the Christmas gifts and clothes that she had been wearing earlier. She sat at Carol’s old desk, the same room where they had dressed that morning as they had been planning their day, discussing where they wanted to hang the mistletoe, when they would go into the city to do some last-minute shopping, and how Harrie was going to teach her how to cook a turkey with all the fixings for Christmas dinner, letting her in on a family secret for keeping it moist and not overcooking it.

All that was gone.

The easiest thing to do would be to pack her bag and then walk directly to that train station she passed on the way back to the house, and simply wait for the next train to New Haven, and then hop another train to Boston. 

“Auntie Harrie?”

Before turning around, Harrie wiped the corner of her eye and nervously smiled back at the little boy who was holding his teddy bear by the arm. “Come here, Jack.” Slowly, Jack walked up to her and before Harrie could pick him up, she placed his teddy bear on the desk, then deposited Jack safely on her lap. Tightly holding onto him, Harrie took a deep breath and said, “I have to go away for a little bit." Jack stared at her, trying to process what she had said and thinking of how to respond. He didn’t know what to say other than no and put his hands over her arms enveloped around him. “I know, but… you be good for your aunt. And your uncle,” she added. Harrie picked up the teddy bear from the desk, which Jack eagerly took from her, worried she would try to take away his bear with her. “No, I’m not taking your bear. Teddy is always yours, Jack.”

Harrie pulled a blank piece of paper free from the small stack on the desk and looked for something to write with. Luckily, there was a black pen sitting there next to Carol’s purse.

* * *

“Harge, have you seen Harriet?”

He shook his head and walked over to the front room to look out the window. “Your car’s here. She’s probably upstairs with Jack.”

“I’m here,” came a small voice from the couch. Harge couldn’t see the top of his head over the ledge of the sofa and when he walked around to the front, Jack was seated in front of the fireplace, all wrapped in a blanket to stay warm since there wasn't a fire going.

Carol climbed the stairs, checking the bedroom where they were supposed to sleep but never did. Her bedclothes and anything she had worn over the past two days were in their usual pile on the floor. The Christmas presents were wrapped and placed on the bed, just as they had been the night before. 

On the desk though was a large black velvet box sitting on top of five brand new notebooks. Her pen, the beautiful black fountain pen Harrie had given her for her nineteenth birthday, lay uncapped next to a simple piece of beige stationery upon which she saw the handwriting she had come to know so well over the past year and a half from the endless correspondence between the two of them.

_Carol,_

_You really should have opened my present early when I asked you to._

_Please keep it as a token of my affection._

_Love always,_  
_Harrie._  
_XOXO_

_P.s. Use the notebooks. Write something._

Carol sat still at the desk with the note in one hand and the box in another. She felt sick to her stomach despite not having eaten anything all day. Eventually, she put down the note and the gift box, and sat staring at them, remaining like that for a good ten minutes. When Harge came into the bedroom, he noticed the piles of dirty clothing, the presents on the bed, and then his new fiancée sitting at the desk staring at the two items sitting before her. 

“What’s that?” asked Harge as he placed his hands on Carol’s shoulders, peering over her to see the contents of the note.

Carol immediately folded up the letter and placed it in her pocket. “Nothing, just… “ Her legs felt wobbly as she stood up and had difficulty speaking. “Harriet had to… go home.”

“That’s a shame. You didn’t even get to tell her our good news.”

“She already knows.”

“Oh,” Harge began then waited before continuing speaking, “perhaps you can ask her to be Maid of Honor when she comes back. Or if she signs her name as ‘Harrie,’ she can be listed as the Best Man. I know she’s important to you, Carol, and part of our… you know. I really don’t mind,” he chuckled.

“She’s not coming back,” she curtly replied. “She won’t be.” Carol sighed, waiting for Harge to make any kind of remark, but nothing came. 

Carol set about cleaning up the bedroom, separating her clothes from Harrie’s and making a new pile on the middle of the bed. Without saying a word, she cleared everything up as fast as possible, pausing every few minutes to sniffle and catch her breath. Harge stood still, looking at the large, flat box on the desk. He gently cracked it open, curious what was inside. His eyes widened as he caught only a glimpse of its contents, then swiftly shut it as Carol saw what he was doing. She seized the box from him and tossed it onto the bed with everything else.

Harge never told her what was inside.

Carol left it in her safe deposit at the bank, never opening it.

At least not until 1965.

After Harge left, Carol moved into the foyer and walked up a few steps to sit on the stairs, taking solace in the darkness and the stillness. Tumbler of rye in one hand, cigarette in the other, she sat staring at her feet resting on the step below her. When she raised her head, she noticed Jack standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her while holding his cherished teddy bear. Calling him up to sit by her, Jack joined her on the stairs and rested his head in her lap as Carol put down her drink and wrapped an arm around him, gently rubbing her hand along his back. Jack fell asleep leaning against his aunt as he patiently waited for his Auntie Harrie to come home.

* * *

Saturday, January 3rd, 1942  
9:45 a.m.

“Who’s Margie?” Therese asked Sister Alicia as they walked down the corridor.

“Margie? Oh,” Sister Alicia nodded her head and smiled, “she went away before Christmas.”

“I got her Christmas present and opened it,” Therese shyly admitted. “Is that bad?”

“It’s alright, Therese. She won’t be coming back. She’s gone to stay with her grandfather in Seattle.”

Therese looked at the stack of photos that had been developed and pulled out the one photo that wasn’t of the children and sisters at Christmas. “When I got my pictures from the camera, this was in there.”

Therese held out the small square picture and passed it to Sister Alicia. The family in the photo looked older, as though it had been taken back in the late 1920s or early 1930s, presumably with a mother, father, an older girl and then a younger girl who was about Therese’s age, all with fair hair and warm expressions. They posed by a fireplace in a library, surrounded by books, wall maps, paintings, and a mounted rhinoceros head above the mantle. Therese reasoned they were probably important, dressed so finely in such a fancy, stately room.

Sister Alicia took one look at the photo, smiled, and placed it in her pocket.

“Never you mind, Therese. Just some patrons of the school. Go on and play with the others.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dxh3lwdOFw) for _Citizen Kane_ (1941) dir. Orson Welles


	17. Singin' in the Rain

Monday, December 21st, 1941  
11:56 a.m.

“Perhaps, we could do something for each other. I'm leaving just after New Year's and, well, it would make everybody - mother especially - feel a whole lot better if I was… married before going.”

“Harge, your mother despises me. Not to mention thinks me going to college is ‘below the dignity of a woman’ as she delightfully put it the day I met her.”

“She’s just jealous,” Harge replied, dismissing Carol’s comment. “You're graduating soon and you’re, obviously, a woman, so I can only guess you must have everyone up in arms all the time about when you're going to get married. I can say to you though, and from my own experience, it's only going to get worse with family pressuring you. Every time you see them and hear a 'So… ?’ because it gets real old, real fast. 

“And you think it’s bad at home? Try sitting in an office or playing golf with a bunch of married guys who keep asking when you’re getting hitched, who’s the girl you’re going with, things like that. That’s hard too, and they’re not saying those things as - nicely - as I put it just now either. I spend more time around them than I do my own parents and my sister, so I guess in some ways that is even worse.

“I'm just going to go ahead and say it. Carol, I love you… and I know you don't necessarily love me back. That's alright, I accept that. I know where your heart is… I know who you love. You can still go to California, go to grad school, work, teach, whatever you want to do. You can be with Harriet. You shouldn't be lonely, Carol. Please consider.”

“And when it's all over?”

“I’m not going to… I don't think I'll make it back. I’m too… I…” Harge kept shaking his head and frowning, his eyes fixed on a particular spot on the floor where there was a space in the tile grout that let in moisture. He looked back up at Carol, worried. “I don’t want to come back if it makes me like my uncle after the Great War. He came back twisted and cruel and… angry at everything. Controlling. My aunt was miserable with him, until he drank himself to death, that is. I’d rather be dead in a trench than be like that miserable bastard,” he grimaced.

“Harge… don’t say that. You will come back and then what - “

Harge shook his head and put up his hand. “Carol. Let me do this for you. Let me repay you for giving me a couple years’ happiness, even if all we ever did was go on picnics, or to the soda fountain, or to the pictures. You’re the first person who has ever shown me any ounce of kindness. Please.”

“I don’t - “

“You don’t have to compromise. You can still do all the things you want to do, go where you want to go, unlimited funds - “

“Your money doesn’t interest me, Harge.”

“Just, all I ask, is that you write. Once a week? That’s all.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Carol looked back at Harge, tapping her foot and trying to make a decision. Her stomach hurt. She was shaking. She was nervous. She hoped…

“Well, fine. If you're going propose, you better get down on one knee and do it properly so I have some believable story to tell my family… not to mention your mother.”

Harge paused and looked down at the floor, completely dirty with dust and debris from years of unuse. He made a face then glanced back up at Carol. “But… this is my good suit.”

* * *

What a day.

And it was barely five past ten.

Her purse hanging from her arm felt heavy. Then again, the fifth of Scotch whisky tucked inside didn't help really. 

Her eyes felt heavy, even puffy. What did you expect for spending the morning crying and in emotional upheaval, she told herself.

Her legs felt as though there were weights attached to them. She couldn't understand why when she wore a lightweight jacket; it wasn't as though she had on her furs that always weighed her down.

Carol could safely say that in all the years of coming into the city, she had never been to Greenwich Village before, so when she stared at the address written on the piece of paper she held, she thought there was an error. There was no entrance or apartment building even at that address. Not even a restaurant or a cafe or coffee shop. Surely it would be a coffee shop she’d be going to, she told herself, coffee and doughnuts because it was still early enough for breakfast.

Again, she paused to look at the address and then back at the building adorned with a marquee reading: “The Pearl.”

The morning had been difficult enough already. She didn’t want to play anymore games. Carol walked up to the ticket window where a young man sat reading a book.

“Excuse me, I was told I could find Miss Harriet Lovell at this address.”

“Miss Lovell? Harriet?” he said then shook his head. “Oh, ya must mean Harrie. Yeah, she’s here. Whaddya want?” He keeping one hand on his book, reached with the other for the telephone next to him, waiting for Carol’s reply before thinking of picking up the receiver.

Carol blinked a few times, trying to keep herself from laughing at the young man’s lack of English-language skills. “Could you please tell her Mrs… could you just please tell her Carol is here to see her?”

He put down his book so he could pick up the phone to bring closer to him then dialed a number he referenced from a sheet tacked to the wall of the booth.

“Hey, Harrie, it’s me… Did I wake ya? Sorry… There’s a lady here. Carol something. I didn’t get her last name… Uh huh… I dunno, lemme check.” He covered his hand over the mouthpiece and spoke directly to Carol. “Ya see anyone in the lobby?”

Carol took a couple steps to the right and looked through the glass windows, not seeing anyone in the lobby area. She walked back to the booth window and shook her head no.

“Nah, nobody… Yeah, I’ll have her bring it up… Uh huh… No… Uh huh… I gotta get back upstairs soon to start the ten-thirty… Yup… Uh huh… Got it.” He hung up the phone and smiled back at Carol. “Head on into the lobby, she’ll be down in a jiffy. Oh, and give her this.” Quickly folding up a newspaper that had already been read, he passed it to Carol through the gap in the window.

She opened the glass door and walked into the illuminated theater lobby. The entire space affectionately displayed Harrie’s taste and love of movies. Posters from the 1920s and 1930s, many from films the two of them had seen together, all blended together to make a fantastic wallpaper on each side leading to the two screens. The theater seemed quiet; even when she had been going to the movies in the city, there were always a good number of people at any given cinema for the first showing of the day. There wasn’t anyone behind the concession stand, no popcorn popped or any drinks removed from the case behind the counter either.

Carol heard a noise in a distant corner of the room, the chain detach and knock against the door frame very faintly however echoing in the enclosed space. Harrie opened the door just wide enough to look out, making sure there was still no one else in the lobby. When she spotted Carol admiring the wallpaper of posters that lined the hall, she couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear at the sight of her. Harrie shut the door behind her and walked up behind her. “Glad you could make it, Carol.”

“Why Miss Lovell, is this yours?”

“Actually, it's actually Dr. Lovell now,” she replied in a jokingly haughty manner, “and yes, this is mine.”

“Well,“ Carol smiled, “look at you, Dr. Lovell.” 

For a moment, they stared at each other, not moving closer, not coming together to properly greet one another, maintaining their distance and silently taking each other in. Carol stood before her, dressed up for a day on the town with her purse all weighted down by the unseen quart of whisky inside; Harrie with her hair all messy, still in her robe, recently rolled out of bed, and barefoot. Now Carol understood why she had to check and see if anyone was in the lobby.

Harrie ushered her back over to the door from where she entered, “Come on up. We'll have some breakfast.”

It was a small, yet bright, apartment with nothing more than a bed, nightstand, refrigerator, couch, and coffee table. All new. The paint smelled faintly fresh; not so fresh it had been done a week before, more like a couple months earlier. There were only a few framed movie posters on the walls in her personal space: _Gilda. The Third Man. Sunset Boulevard. The Maltese Falcon._

They all made Carol smile, noticing the care Harrie took in carefully displaying them. “Is this your art?”

Harrie grinned. “Those are my favorite masterpieces, yes.” She went back by Carol, still standing at the top of the landing, and held out her hand. “Let me get your coat and purse.” Before she could slip off her coat, Carol passed her purse to Harrie who gave her a look once she felt the weight of it. “Is this how you stay in form in the off-season? Lugging this up and down Fifth?” Harrie placed the bag over on the coffee table, right next to the newspaper, as Carol removed her coat. She didn't want Harrie to hang it up for her, and just asked her to place it on the bed, which was fine as Harrie didn't have any hangers to begin with.

Carol smoothed the front of her skirt, then raised her hands to brush away a drooping strand of hair to the side. Harrie tightened her robe and looked up at Carol before moving forward to embrace her. They smiled at one another, then looked away. Harrie wrapped her arms around her waist, then kissed her on each cheek. Carol returned her hug, putting her arms over Harrie's shoulders to let them rest there.

They stayed like that for a while; holding each other, breathing deeply, and taking in each other's presence. To Carol, it felt so wonderful to have a familiar pair of arms holding her, and she immediately felt herself go pleasantly limp as she held onto Harrie. How long had it been? How long since someone had put their arms around her? Really put her arms around her and held her closely like that? She took a deep breath and held it in, feeling completely comfortable with that familiar pair of long arms around her middle. Arms that instinctively knew where to hold, how they should rest on her hips. How tight they ought to be. Before she got too accustomed and any more relaxed, Carol let go, smiling at Harrie as she pulled away. “Sorry, I'm terribly early,” Carol apologized as she motioned towards Harrie in her robe.

“It's perfectly fine! If anything I'm glad you're here early.” 

“I wasn't sure if you'd… be awake, and I - “

“Come on. Sit down, get comfy. Did you have breakfast?” Carol slowly shook her head no. “We can do breakfast instead of lunch, yeah? Right here, with a swell view of… well, a view of something.” They both looked out onto another window of the apartment building across the street and then smiled back at one another. “Toast with jam and butter okay?”

“Sure, I'll nibble whatever you - “

“ - you don't eat and have a pot of coffee?” Harrie said in unison. 

Carol wondered how she could possibly remember something as trivial as that. She smiled back and reached over to open her purse. “It's been a long morning,” she sighed, retrieving the bottle from her bag and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. She raised an eyebrow and looked up at Harrie, almost waiting for her approval or a challenge, but nothing negative came.

“Are you going for _The Lost Weekend_ here?”

“He drank two quarts of rye. I’m only going for one quart.”

Harrie didn't pry; she casually walked to the sink to get two tumblers and blew on the inside of each one before passing them to Carol to fill. “I knew you'd get that reference,” she said with a wink when she returned. “You're sharing that with me by the way. How about you pour us some drinks? I'll go make that toast.” As Harrie moved around the tiny kitchen, pulling slices of bread from the packet and getting butter and jam from the refrigerator, Carol opened the bottle and poured them two neat doubles, figuring there was no use in asking for ice in that small apartment. “Then you can get me up-to-date on things,” she added, placing the bread into the toaster.

While she waited on the toast, Harrie came over to sit down on the sofa next to Carol and picked up the drink, raising it in her direction. Carol did the same, softly smiling at Harrie who was looking for words. 

“What are we drinking to?”

“How about,” Harrie began, “to bygones.”

“To bygones.”

Carol threw back her drink without hesitation, breathing a sigh of relief as she felt the sting of the alcohol sliding down her throat. Before the burning sensations subsided, she reached for the bottle again and poured herself another then held the bottle up to Harrie, silently asking if she wanted another. Harrie declined, pushing herself back on the sofa against the cushions, watching Carol drink her second glass.

“I really hope this early morning imbibing isn't on account of coming over here.” 

Still holding a now empty glass, Carol pressed the bottom of it against the top of her left hand, feeling the cool glass against her skin. There was no ring on her finger anymore to make a sound when her hand came into contact with the tumbler. Nothing but silence. There was no reflection of what used to be familiar red nailpolish through the glass either.

Carol looked around the room, again, taking in the furniture and fixtures; she'd never seen anything more than the lobby and the auditorium of a movie theater before. The apartment was bright, cheerful, not too fancy. The sheets on Harrie's bed were unmade, all crumpled; the puffy duvet pulled down toward the foot of the bed; some pillows at the top by the headboard, a couple somewhere in the middle. For a moment, Carol felt guilty about having woken her up. What if she had gotten to sleep late? She drifted back to looking around the room, spotting a photo frame on the nightstand, a foldable one that usually sat on a desk. She could make out a boy of not more than twelve being thoroughly hugged by Harrie along with an attractive woman about five inches shorter than her. Carol looked back at Harrie, realizing that her eyes had been following her as she took in the room. “Is that her?”

“Yes,” Harrie smiled. “Hang on.” She got up and quickly walked to the nightstand to get her small photo frame. She passed it to Carol before sitting down, making herself comfortable against the other end of the sofa. “Her name's Joanne and we've been together for,” she said pointing to the fair-haired woman standing next to her in the picture and noticeably pausing, “eight years now. She's a French professor, so she’s never been able to join in on these trips back East with it being the middle of the semester.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Carol chuckled. “Language professor, I mean. I bet she's smart like you.”

Harrie smiled and looked at the photo again. “No, she's legitimately brilliant. Her brain goes a mile a minute. She's very sweet and cuddly - you know how much I like that - extremely cute, an excellent mother, and a terrible, terrible cook. She's from Pennsylvania originally, Bryn Mawr… Gave up that whole Main Line scene to get a Ph.D. in Romance Languages out in California. I think you two would get on very nicely.”

“And the young man?”

“That's Teddy. I swear, he's grown about four inches since that was taken last summer down in Monterey. He’s the good cook, actually. Guess he takes after me in that regard. We play cricket together; he has a wicked good arm. He’s very quiet around strangers; once you get him going, though, he doesn't quit, especially when around those who know about his mother and me. Jo raised him speaking French and Spanish, so the two of them plot against me while I’m standing in the room. I don't always get it, but it's nice they have that,” she laughed. “Teddy is actually the inspiration for a book she’s writing about raising children to be bilingual.”

Carol looked at the boy’s picture, noticing he had dark hair that was much more similar to Harrie's than that of the blonde woman holding him. “He's Joanne’s?“

“He's Jo’s,” she quickly replied. “Her husband died in the war, in ‘43. It was five months after he died that we met. I always had to get translations - usually French or German stuff - so I became good friends with a bunch of ladies from the language department. One afternoon, ration books in hand, we got together for supper at someone’s house, and there she was, sitting at the opposite end of the table. I couldn’t stop looking at her. It was just like that. Instantaneous. 

“Teddy - well, I suppose I should be referring to him as ‘Ted’ now - Ted was five when we moved in together. He’s my buddy and I can’t help but be that kind of parent - if you want to refer to me as a parent - however the only difference is, twice a year, if that, I scold him for something trivial and rush him off to bed. We sneak off on schooldays, go to the movies or maybe the Muir Woods or the beach. Ted doesn't remember his father at all - he left for Europe when he was about three - but Ted’s pretty much always known me and I've always been a fixture. He has a mom and a mum, and he loves it.”

“That’s charming.” Carol thought about Rindy, about what it would be like to have her raised by herself and another woman. One particular woman.

“They both make fun of the way I talk, so it works out perfectly.” Harrie stopped and suddenly became very serious, taking a deep breath and rubbing the corner of her eye. “We're going to move back East though. By next year at the latest, hopefully. He’ll be starting at Andover or Choate in the fall; he's not decided yet. But I do worry though, I mean, about Ted being away at school, away from us, whether we're near or far. Boys, you know. They can be so much worse than girls! At least compared to what Sid and Jamie have told me. While he's so far away, I don't want him to have to completely hide who we are or... who he is. That’s just not how we raised him.

“He's just so good-hearted and that hint of something a little bit different than others his age, you know? He’s a lot like me in some ways.” Harrie leered back over toward the bottle of whisky, contemplating pouring herself another glass. Carol caught her looking and without any invitation, poured each of them another round. “It's just… early last summer, he started asking us about girls and dating, having a steady, that sort of thing, and the more questions he asked, the more I realized he… he’s curious.”

They made eye contact, understanding what Harrie was saying about her son, and Carol faintly smiled when she passed her a filled glass. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” she replied, “I just don't want him to have a hard time at school, all alone, clear across the country, no one to talk to who understands. I never admitted it to you, but there were days when I felt so scared and so alone before college. I guess sometimes at college too, but not to the extent I felt when I was fourteen or so. It’s one thing to build character; it’s perfectly another to feel neglected. He’s so accustomed to coming to us about things, I mean, I know he can handle it, I know he can make friends. I never want him to feel how I felt.”

Distracted by the pop of the toaster, Harrie walked over to the kitchen area and prepared the toast, smearing on generous amounts of butter and strawberry jam. She piled everything onto a tray, poured coffee into two mismatched mugs, and returned to the couch where she left the tray on the coffee table. Carol watched Harrie dig into the plate of toast and drink much of her coffee, all the while Carol kept the hot coffee mug in her hands to keep warm. “Jack will be starting at Choate in September,” she commented.

Harrie stopped chewing, unable to hide a smile if she tried at the mention of Jack’s name. She dropped her piece of toast onto her plate where it fell butter and jam-side down. “Jack? My little duckling?”

“One in the same. I’m afraid he’s not much of a little duckling anymore.”

“Not a day goes I don’t think of him and wonder how he's doing,” Harrie said, her voice quavering. “When I saw you three years ago, I so badly wanted to ask you how he was.”

“He's doing very well from what his mother tells me. I haven't seen him in a couple years though with all that's been happening, but he's alright, I promise.”

Carol began to feel guilty about asking only a couple questions and not saying too much in general. She debated drinking her coffee or the tumbler of whisky, finally opting for the whisky and picked up the glass with her free hand to take a drink, cringing as it slid down her throat. The photograph sat on the table next to the bottle of scotch; Carol reached over to pick it up again to look at the three of them. They looked incredibly happy together, and Harrie and Jo so terribly in love. Carol couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at how Harrie so nicely and neatly had a beautiful life, while all she had was being alone day after day. The same thing Harrie desperately didn't want for her son.

“When we stopped by the house in Greenwich, the groundskeeper gave me your address and mentioned you're now the owner. I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents. I figured something had happened when I stopped receiving their Christmas cards and mine kept getting returned.”

“You sent each other cards?” Carol asked, surprised at the news.

“Every year, your grandfather sent me a card without fail - even after your grandmother passed away. He'd always put a funny anecdote in it, usually about the garden, or something about himself, or how much he missed having me around. That is, until three years ago?” Harrie wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and sniffled. 

Harrie looked over at her, eyes watery and her nose getting runnier every second. She brushed her hand up to wipe her face, shaking her head. “He was always so nice to me,” Harrie mumbled, “he always made me feel - “ She paused and rethought what she wanted to say, “ - he always made me feel as though I belonged there with all of you.” 

“He loved you so much, Harriet. He absolutely adored you. Never liked Harge though. He never - and I mean, absolutely never - allowed Harge to call him ‘Grandpa’ or even ‘Harry’ for that matter. It was always ‘Mr. Ross’ and firm handshakes: never allowed anything else.”

Harrie looked at her plate and purposely left two triangles of toast for Carol, passing it over to her to eat. “Here, absorb some of that alcohol or you’re gonna be sick,” she advised as she traded her plate for the coffee cup in Carol's hand. She watched as Carol slowly ate, biting little corners of toast Harrie had generously covered in butter and jam. “Better?” she asked once their plate was empty.

Carol told her yes then began to look around for a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth. Harrie pressed forward the one cloth napkin she had, shrugging and laughing. “Will you explain why we're eating toast in an apartment of a movie theater and not some mad scientist's lab?”

“My mad scientist lab is upstairs,” Harrie said, pointing to the staircase next to the one they had originally walked up. When she lowered her hand, she moved closer to Carol and began to shake her head. “I just couldn't do it.”

“You couldn't do what?”

Harrie coughed a couple times then reached for her coffee cup. The drink had grown cold in the interim and she quickly put it back down after finishing what was left. “I couldn't be responsible for the development of so-called 'progress’ that only brings misery to others or developing something merely to one up someone or some company for the sake of bragging rights or profits. A couple years after the war ended, I said to hell with it and quit. In that downtime, I tinkered in my lab at home, went to the movies a lot, and then one day I realized it and I should have thought of it much sooner: Movies. I love going to the movies, being at the theater, and laughing or crying with others. It's the one place I've never felt alone. Movies make me happy; they always have. Developing solutions and products that don’t bring happiness to others or don't make people's lives better severely depressed me, didn’t make me happy. Even in the darkest moments, when I felt I was at my lowest of lows, I’ve always been able to go the pictures and forget everything terrible going on.

“I remembered hearing how a vault at 20th went up in flames back in the ‘30s. Lots of stuff was lost. Silents, early talkies. All up in smoke and lost forever. There was also a fire in Scotland - I remember because it happened during a Christmas I was visiting over there - and a theater burnt down killing something like fifty, sixty children. In both cases, it was because of that highly flammable celluloid film. After a few years of solidly working in my own lab, on my own time, I created a type of heat-resistant film base. Well, it’s not entirely heat-proof, nonetheless it’s at least far safer than nitrates by using… “ She stopped speaking and watched Carol, how she followed every word she said despite the fact she probably didn’t know the difference between nitrate and acetate.

“Go on, scientist,” Carol rested her hand against the side of her head as she listened. “I’ve always loved hearing you talk about things you know so well.”

Harrie smiled back at her, scooting closer to her on the couch as she continued. “To summarize, let’s just say that I patented the technology for making film less dangerous and it’s been adapted by the Big Eight, maybe going international in the coming months. I'm waiting to hear back in June. Supposedly it’ll be available to the public next year or so, for home movie film and photographic film and the like.”

Photographs. 

Carol looked down at her glass and smirked. “I know - knew - someone who would probably very much appreciate that,” she mused. “So you're telling me you hold a patent on a safer variety of film that essentially everyone uses or will be using?”

Harrie raised her eyebrow and nodded back. “I used the money from the patent profits to open this theater. Well, the one in Boston came first. That’s… that’s another of the reasons I had come back East that April. I bought a theater scheduled for demolition, got it renovated, hired some staff and… that's what I do now. My next big research project is going to be developing solutions for restoring old film, so… I'm sure that'll take a while.

“Since I have something adopted by all the major studios, I can show whatever I want, whatever studio. It’s not that unique now with those lawsuits going on, but it’s still a draw. One screen with new movies, the other with ones from back when we were in school or earlier, or even stuff from the past couple of years. We were showing _Sunset Boulevard_ back around Christmas. People love that one.” She tightened the belt of her robe around her again, constantly fiddling with it, even though Harrie knew it was tight enough around her waist and wouldn’t come undone. “I’m prattling on here. You ought to stop me, Carol! Talk to me. Tell me things.”

Carol didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. She stared at the tumbler on the coffee table, wanting another couple of fingers of scotch, but unsure if she could handle another right away. She was suddenly overcome with embarrassment about her situation, specifically when compared to Harrie who had seemingly been able to manage her own happiness be it in love or her professional life. She felt shy, realizing that perhaps everything in the last ten years or so had been for naught. No way had she possibly become the kind of person she had wanted and hoped to be during those years in college.

“Compared with you, Harriet, I fear I have nothing to show for myself after all these years. When I look at you - I’m sorry, I - I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Carol blurted out. 

Why did it seem as though everyone was making overwhelming strides in life while she was straggling in the back, unable to keep up with everyone else around her? What did she have to show for herself after all this time? 

A college degree with which she did nothing except for teach history of art during the war.

“I never really did anything of value with my degree.”

An acceptance letter for a graduate school program she never attended.

“I never went to grad school even though I received an offer.”

A string of failed relationships that had ended with every party irreconcilability hurt ever since she was twenty-one.

“I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever loved. Starting with you.”

A failed business she had opened with her best friend who somehow became her lover.

“I can’t even have Abby stop by my house for long because we had an affair before Rindy was born and I told Harge.”

A sister who didn't seem to care one way or another what was happening.

“Elaine doesn’t care and hasn’t lifted a finger.”

A nephew who she dearly loved and hadn’t seen in two years.

“I’ve not seen Jack or the other two boys in over two years.”

A proposal and a marriage that weren’t supposed to have turned out the way they did.

“Harge and I are divorcing.”

A daughter whose future presence in her life was still wildly up in the air.

“I’ve most likely lost any kind of custody or visitation with my daughter.”

A psychiatric file with her name on it that was as thick as the art books she loved.

“I made myself go to a psychiatrist for daily treatments and spent a month at a retreat in Vermont to try to ‘fix’ this so-called affliction so I wouldn’t lose custody of my daughter. In the process, I'm scared I’ve lost part of myself.” Carol sunk into the couch a bit more, letting out a deep breath again as she scratched the back of her neck.

“For how long have you been going?”

“Three months? Nearly four. I can’t even remember.” She shook her head and reached for the cigarette case and lighter in her purse. “I’m not going anymore though. I’m… stopping that. I’m not going to pay to sit on a goddamn couch and have someone tell me how… how I’m some abhorrent degenerate who is capable of polluting the mind of her own child and impressionable young women with her invert behavior and desires.”

“You’re not any of those things, Carol,” Harrie reasoned, getting angry at the descriptive words Carol had used. “ _We_ \- “ she pointed back and forth at Carol and herself “ - are none of those things.”

Carol offered her a cigarette, which she declined, forgetting Harrie didn’t smoke, and made herself more comfortable on the couch. Harrie in turn offered her the empty coffee cup to use as an ashtray then got up to open the window. Carol looked down at her hand, the trembling one holding her lit cigarette. She panicked for a moment, thinking she had lost her wedding ring, reminding herself that she took it off days earlier and dropped the silver ring into the back of a jewelry box. Examining her naked fingers and letting out a huff as she ran her thumb over her fingernails, she scoffed, “They told me… _suggested_ I even remove my nailpolish. See? I was perfectly willing to put part of myself, even the tiniest part of myself, into a little box, never to let it come out again. I spent almost a month - I think it was a month - up in Vermont in the dead of winter to ‘seriously’ work on my treatment. I’ve endured all this time of telling everyone around me only what they wanted to hear. Well, no more. I'm not going to put up with it anymore.”

Watching as Carol raised her hand to take a drag of her cigarette, Harrie noticed the nails devoid of her trademark red polish. She remembered the first time Carol painted her nails red, right after they saw _The Women_ and “Jungle Red,” or a shade that resembled it, was all the rage. Harrie looked down at her own nails. It had been ages since she’d had hers done or even bothered painting them; she’d forgotten how accustomed she had become to seeing Carol with her perfectly manicured red fingernails. Even when they had seen each other a few years earlier, Carol had her red nails, and Harrie loved how she still did that.

“If there is one thing I have always admired about you, Carol, it’s the fact that you have never been ashamed of who you are. I am sorry though. I'm sorry things have been so hard for you. I’m sorry that you thought you had to compromise part of yourself.”

“It's my own doing though, isn't it? I set all of this in motion all those years ago. If I hadn't - “

“Don't,” Harrie assertively tried to assure her, “it’s not your fault.” 

There was a prevalent sadness that was beginning to overtake their conversation together, and Harrie was starting to sense that Carol was barely able to hold herself together with the way her hand shook every time she took a puff of her cigarette. The combination of the scotch, cigarettes, and the topics of discussion were getting too heavy for them. They had never had such serious conversations together; everything had always been so light and so carefree and Harrie almost didn’t know what to say to bring it back around to a pleasant topic. “You said you have a little girl?” asked Harrie. Carol nodded her head with her eyes closed and brushed her hand across her forehead again. “Could you show me a photo?”

She reached over to her purse and fumbled around for her billfold, opening it to search through for what she needed. Harrie had shown off a picture of her little boy, of her sweetheart. Why couldn't Carol show the one thing she had done that was of some good? 

She hadn't pulled out the photo since December. She remembered the day Jeanette had come over to help her pack and as she boxed up the items from the bedroom, she handed her the same picture of Rindy that was on the desk; right away Carol had taken the framed picture to pack in her bag of most important household items and covered it in her favorite cashmere sweater. Even when she got to the new apartment, she still hadn’t unfurled the sweater to display the photo. There were days when she didn’t want to look at a picture of Rindy, days when she missed her terribly and couldn’t do anything about it. It hurt too much knowing that she was always only miles away from her, but unable to see her without the supervision of a family member. She passed the photograph to Harrie who studied it, then looked up at Carol with a big smile.

“She's so precious! What's her name?” Harrie inquired as she held onto the picture. 

“Rindy. Well, it's Nerinda, but we call her Rindy. She just turned five, so… off to school in September. Carol wanted to talk to her about Rindy in the same joyous manner as Harrie had spoken about Ted, but Rindy was much younger and in some ways, there really wasn't much to say. She wasn’t bilingual like Ted, didn’t have the arm for tossing a cricket ball, or have a mother who (responsibly) let her play hooky on occasion. On the other hand, she was loving, bright, had an infectious laugh, adored her coloring books, and gave the best hugs. “You know, my grandfather only softened to me again when Rindy was born and I told him her middle name’s Alice. He knew then.” Carol laughed to herself as she crossed her legs and leaned an arm against the side of the couch. “I think that’s why he left everything to me.”

“I knew you had a child from… I knew from a few years ago.” Harrie paused for a moment and quietly asked, “You had an affair with Abby?”

Carol sheepishly smiled back. “I suppose that's where all of this started up again. I wanted to try it again with a woman, even if only or a night or two… or three. I knew she was interested, to say the least - “

“ - coulda told ya that years ago - “ Harrie hurriedly pointed out.

“ - in all, it was a moderately awkward experience because we realized we both like to take the lead when it comes to women.” Harrie tried her best to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t hold it back. “We tried though, for a couple of months. I hadn't… it had been a while at that point and I so badly wanted it to work with her even though, in retrospect, I don’t know if that would have been the best thing. We’re better as friends. I wanted a way out, a perfect reason. However, I became pregnant with Rindy and… well, that was that. I don’t think Abby necessarily wanted to raise a child, so I stayed with Harge.

“By the time I was pregnant - the second time - that's why… well, that's why I called Sid and James. If I didn’t know someone I implicitly trusted like Sid, never in a million years would I have considered that. Harge doesn't know about my trip to Boston. He thinks I was at my sister’s. No one knows about it except Abby. Harge and I were arguing all the time; either about him working, me wanting to work and do something other than be cooped up home, not actually spending time together as a family… sex. So many arguments about sex.”

Harrie winced and looked away, raising her hand to scratch along her eyebrow then wipe the corner of her eye. When she looked back at Carol, she paused and waited for them to make eye contact again. “Carol, I know it was an impossible decision, and one you had to make alone. I am so, so sorry that someone I care about had to go through something like that.”

“I don’t know what would have happened if… if I had another baby.”

“You could have come to live with us in California, had the baby. We’d have looked after you. Like I said, Jo would love you to pieces - I think you’d keep up with her better than I ever could. You could’ve become Teddy’s live-in aunt and taught him all about art. Then the three of you could’ve gabbed in French about my accent,” she sweetly teased. 

As Harrie began to pass the photo back to Carol, she noticed another image stuck to the reverse side. Carol reached forward to grasp it from her, instead placing her clenched fists back into her lap as Harrie flipped over the photo. It was the picture of a young woman, cigarette dangling from her lips, looking away from the camera. Arching an eyebrow and waiting to see if Carol said anything without being prompted, Harrie waited and when she heard nothing, asked, “Oh? And what’s her name?”

Before she could gaze at the photo any further, Carol took it away from her and immediately tucked it back into its spot inside her billfold alongside Rindy’s. “Therese.“

“Therese?” Carol nodded. “That's really pretty. Unique. Is she French?”

“No, no. Not French. Harge found out about her though. About us. That’s why… Well, as you can see - and as you know from first-hand experience - I have what is now referred to as ‘a pattern of behavior.’”

Harrie rolled her eyes. “That's not a pattern. It's just who you are.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and stared over at Carol without interjecting anything more. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

Carol stared off, avoiding the question for as long as she could. She looked around the room again, admiring the film posters, the little kitchen area, the large unmade bed with all its pillows and blankets, the brightness that the oversized window let in even on a dreary day. Carol reached for Harrie’s hand and squeezed it. “I threw it all away. I abandoned her. I fucked it all up… again. I - I don’t think she would even want… me anymore. Like this.” Carol slumped her head against the back of the couch, trying to keep herself from crying, holding herself, but it was no use. Harrie went to the nightstand and opened the drawer, looking for a handkerchief. “Harriet, it’s so good to see you, today of all days,” Carol managed to say between wiping her nose against her hand and dabbing her eyes with the other. “It’s not even eleven and I've had a really bad day. Make that week. Couple of months. Maybe even years? I just.. I don't know if I can do - this - anymore. I'm so unhappy.”

Carol's eyes were still watery and she blew her nose, vehemently shaking her head no in reply at the same time. Harrie looked around the room, thinking what to do. She didn't want Carol to keep drinking (or smoking) and watched as she nervously sat with her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to stay her breathing. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, Carol.”

Even though the sky was grey, the room was still bright and Harrie hadn’t turned on any of the lights when Carol came upstairs to the apartment. Either way, it was going to rain, and there was no chance in the two of them stepping out any time soon. The window nearest them was open so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t overtake the room and an occasional breeze made the space drafty. Harrie could tell in Carol’s state of upsetness she was too warm; probably the alcohol not helping the two of them either. “Why don't we sit on the floor by the window? We're sure not going anywhere in this weather. We can look out into the rain and you can cool off.”

“It’s not going to rain.”

“I can tell when it’s going to rain, Carol.”

“I thought that only worked if you’re English on your mother’s side.”

“Smart ass,” Harrie muttered as she walked to the bed to grab some pillows to put behind their backs and the blanket from the foot of the bed as Carol removed the hat pinned to her head, kicked off her heels, and removed her suit jacket which she draped over the side of the couch. Realizing she was still in her bathrobe and feeling equally as flushed from the whisky, Harrie paused and looked at Carol. “Um, would you mind if I took this off? I’m wearing something underneath and not gonna - “

“It's fine, Harriet. It is your home - or place.” Carol took note of her own clothing, then watched as Harrie slid off her robe and stood there in only her slip. They made eye contact with one another as Harrie draped her robe beside Carol’s suit jacket at the edge of the couch. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked at Carol who smiled back at her. “That's pretty,” she quietly said.

Harrie slunk down against the back of the wall, resting against the pile of pillows she had placed there. She patted the space between her legs to invite Carol to sit as closely as possible. “At least let me hold you. Would that be alright?” Carol nodded, sitting down and resting her back against Harrie. With her arms wrapped around Carol’s waist, Harrie moved her head forward and rested her chin on her shoulder, letting go for a moment to pull a blanket up around them. After a couple swipes up and down of her stomach, Harrie stopped moving her hand and simply let it relax against her. “Better?”

“Yes, better. Thank you,” replied Carol. “Reminds me of college.”

“Somehow we're still wearing far more clothing.”

“Still cheeky.”

“Absolutely.”

“Still unable to pronounce the letter r.”

“Naturally.” Harrie was quiet, then felt beneath the covers to take Carol's hand in her own and hold it. “We can sit here together like this, for as long as you'd like. Until I head back at end of the month, if that’s what it takes. I’ll even forego the Patriots’ Day double-header on Monday. ”

“No, Harriet. I’d never ask that of you. Besides, wouldn’t Jo mind?”

“What? That we're holding hands, highly informally dressed, slightly drunk before noon?”

“Precisely.”

Harrie shook her head no. “You're my friend, you’re Carol. It’s fine.” She squeezed Carol’s hand a couple times. 

“Do you have an agreement where it comes to me?” 

“Not exactly,” Harrie curtly replied in a very serious tone then kissed her on the cheek. “Jo has… Jo likes to sleep with men on occasion. _A_ man, I should say, an old friend. By ‘on occasion,’ I mean once a year. Specifically when I come back East, but it’s been going on even before she married Teddy's father.”

“Oh,” Carol breathed as she angled her head back to look at Harrie. “Well that's… something.”

“It's not a secret or anything. I’m perfectly fine with it,” Harrie explained, continuing to casually mention the entire matter. “Academics, y’know? They make creative and interesting bedfellows.”

“More creative than a real estate agent.”

“Pfft… no contest there. Especially after what? A couple of scientists and a… “

“Photographer.”

“Ah, a creative type.” After a pause, Harrie started to laugh and affirmatively shake her head. “I remember the first time Jo broached the subject, she asked if I wanted to join in or something; I don’t remember how she put it exactly. Firstly, I’m far too shy for anything like that, and second, I think I just rolled my eyes, declined the offer, told her I loved her and wished her a good time. When I got home a couple weeks later, it was like normal. Everything was fine. Life went on. My feelings for her didn't sway any; she loves me, I love her, and nothing changed that.”

“You would rather travel three thousand miles to watch a baseball game than be in a room with a naked man. I’m strongly inclined to agree,” Carol smirked. Harrie let go of her hand and pinched Carol’s hip. “Are you looking for such an arrangement for yourself?”

“No, but if I ever did have that sort of thing, it sure as hell wouldn't involve some guy,” she laughed. “Can you honestly imagine me with a man? Pregnant for that matter?”

“Darling, there aren’t enough warm baths or warm cookies in the world for the cravings of a pregnant Harriet Lovell.”

Harrie hugged her tighter, shifting to Carol’s opposite shoulder. “I did tell her later on about you and me a few years ago. I suppose I wanted to know how she'd react if she were in my usual position.”

“And?”

“She passed me the salt then asked if we were going to the eight o’clock or eleven o’clock showing of _Sunset Boulevard_.” 

In the lull of conversation, Carol glanced up at the framed _Sunset Boulevard_ advertisement. Carol wondered why she had chosen to frame and display that considering Harrie remembered exactly what movie they were going to see when she had told Jo about their rendez-vous. There was also _The Third Man_ poster displayed nearby; there was no way that Harrie could have forgotten that. Perhaps they were reminders for her, for whatever personal reason. Then again, how much time could she possibly spend by herself or at all in this apartment when everything was back in California?

“Jo even miscarried once. The year before I saw you,” she quietly admitted. “We were kind of excited about a baby; however, about ten weeks along… I mean, she was thirty-eight at the time. I think that's why I've been okay with all this because if she got pregnant, it wouldn't be the end of the world.”

Thinking back again to Harrie's offer to have her come out to California years earlier, Carol understood better why she had suggested that. For a moment, she felt a twinge of sadness over not moving to California, on both occasions, but it quickly dissipated. She knew that wasn’t her place and that never could have been her place. “I'm so sorry.”

“If she'd had a baby, I'd never have been able to open that first theater in Boston, and we wouldn't be sitting here with each other in this second theater right now. Same goes if you'd had your baby.”

“Either way, you sound very happy together, like you have something that really works for you both.”

“We do. Relationships are complicated, I accept that. She just needs him to herself for a bit once in a while, to reconnect, and I need… I don’t need anything. I have her, I have Teddy, I have my own set of friends.“ Harrie didn’t say anything, and clung to Carol to rest her chin on her shoulder again. “Perhaps we should get together every year like they do; instead, we go to museums and the Red Sox game. Something very Carol - “ she kissed the left side of Carol’s neck, “and something very Harrie,” she said before she kissed the right side of her neck.

“How could you ever trust me? Why would you want to do anything with me, Harriet, after all that? I broke your heart. I let you down. I always seem to do that to the people I love.”

“When Sid sent that telegram saying you phoned and were coming to Boston… I couldn’t let you go through that on your own. No matter how upset I had been, I knew there was a damn good reason you resorted to that.” Harrie untangled her arms from Carol's, trailing them down to the sides of her thighs to rub the palms of her hands against her. “Carol, I was so upset with you, so angry, so incredibly hurt, that I told myself I never wanted to see or hear from you again. I kept thinking that: week in and week out. I kept telling myself, one day... one day I’m finally going to toss out everything you gave me, including that pocketwatch. I never could because I knew there’d come a time when it would stop hurting so much. All the good memories would be happy for me again and I’d want some tangible reminder. I’m glad I didn’t because a few years ago, when I opened that bedroom door and saw you asleep in my old bed wearing my pajamas, all the memories became good again.”

“You still use the watch?”

“I do,” Harrie grinned, “it's always in my pocket. I have Teddy's picture inside the cover though, but once in a while, I peel it back to look at the inscription because, like I said, the memories are good again.” She turned to look at the nightstand where the watch was sitting in a small leather tray, however it wasn't visible from where they sat. “Do you still have the… you still have the box?”

“I do,” she somberly replied. “I've never opened it. It's in my deposit box in Midtown.”

“Do you want me to tell you what's in it?”

“No. I'll open it someday. Maybe.” 

“You should. Let me know if you do,” she winked. 

Suddenly, Carol began to squirm around and move away from her. “Harriet, I don't think you understand what happened that day at the house. Harge was willing,” Carol smirked and shook her head, “the _old_ Harge, I should say, was willing for you and me to… “ She fussed with the blanket covering the two of them, pulling it off, undoubtedly leaving Harrie very chilled. “Nevermind. What’s past is past. All I have are excuses and mistakes.”

“It happened. They're not mistakes, Carol, they're how you got to now - how we got to sitting like this on the floor in a movie theater apartment in the Village.”

“I think I'm a little drunk.” 

“Me too,” Harrie giggled. Carol moved so that her head was in Harrie's lap, taking the blanket with her to cover up. “Gorgeous, you gonna share that blanket with me?”

“No. It's so toasty.”

“Then I'll just have to distract you,” teased Harrie. It took a moment for her to think of how she wanted to coax the blanket from her grasp, finally twirling a strand of Carol’s hair between her fingers for a few minutes, but she didn’t wouldn’t budge. There was probably no use prying the blanket from her, so Harrie tapped her to sit up to go get a sweater to put over her slip as well as the newspaper Carol had brought up and a bottle of red nailpolish. Harrie took her spot against the wall. She rolled the nailpolish bottle between her hands to ensure the contents were well blended and waited for Carol to rotate onto her back. “Tell me all about your Therese. Tell me every little thing.” Letting one hand rest flat against Carol’s chest, Harrie started painting her nails, watching as a warmth of red returned to Carol's hands as well as her cheeks as she looked up at Harrie with the biggest grin.

“My Therese… she has the most - gorgeous - dimples when she smiles… and I’m so absolutely in love with her.” She rolled her eyes backwards to glance at _The Third Man_ poster then smiled back at Harrie, “‘You did tell me I ought to find myself a girl,’” Carol quoted as Harrie painted her nails and to whom she spent the next thirty minutes explaining how she and Therese had met.

* * *

Carol rubbed her right eye and then tried to focus by repeatedly blinking. “I fell asleep.” 

As she came to, she noticed her head was still in Harrie’s lap, using it as a pillow. Harrie’s arms were draped around her and a folded up newspaper rested on her left leg, open to the daily crossword. The glasses Harrie wore threw Carol off, never having seen her in anything but sunglasses before. Harrie looked so focused as she concentrated on her newspaper and Carol warmed to a pleasant smile as she glanced up at her friend. “You did snort yourself awake… and been drooling on me too… and there’s lipstick stains also last I checked,” she spoke without looking up.

“Oh, dear. I haven't fallen asleep in the middle of the day for the longest time.”

“It's fine. You must be exhausted, or it was the whisky.” Carol shifted her shoulders from side to side, and Harrie could hear the faintest creaking of her bones as she moved. She placed the newspaper on the bedside table and turned her attention back to Carol. “You're still so beautiful when you first wake up.”

“You're still a tremendous flirt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a woman complimenting another woman on her attractiveness. Nor cuddling up together either. Some things never change, and you certainly haven't.”

“I see.” Carol gestured toward the folded over copy of the _Times_ crossword perched at the corner of the nightstand.

Disgruntled, Harrie picked up the newspaper she had just put down and looked at it. “Fucking Phil,” she exclaimed as she slammed down the newspaper on her leg, “he already wrote in about a quarter of the answers.”

Carol extended her arm and poked the bottom of Harrie’s glasses. “For how long have you been wearing glasses?”

“These? Oh, about a year now. Eye strain. I blame Technicolor.” 

“They look lovely.”

Harrie looked back at the crossword and then back down to Carol who she snuggled her arms around. “To hell with today’s crossword. Could I take you to the movies? It’s raining and miserable out and there’s no better way to get lost for a couple hours.”

“Harriet, I know we were drinking, but I think we’re already at a movie theater.”

Harrie didn’t hesitate to pinch her as she had earlier. “What was the last movie you saw?”

Carol took a deep breath and thought back. It had been ages since she had gone to the movies. Two years, was it? Longer? Was the last time she saw a movie with Harrie back in 1950? No, she had definitely gone within the past year or so. Never with Harge though. Then she remembered. “Abby and I went to see _Streetcar_.”

“I should have known,” Harrie laughed. “You must have been so disappointed by Vivien Leigh as a blonde.”

“Terribly so,” she pouted.

“Sit up,” requested Harrie, tapping her shoulders for emphasis. Once Carol sat up, Harrie stood to walk to the telephone by the toaster. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled, picking up the phone and dialing a short exchange. “Hey, remember I asked if you sent that print back? Did you box it yet?... Do you think you could set it up in Two?... We’ll be down in five.” Focusing her attention back to Carol, she started, “Okay, let me throw something on. You, put on your suit jacket. Leave your coat and all that upstairs.” 

Harrie began to rifle through the drawers for clothes and Carol asked if she should bother with her purse. All Harrie could do was give her a look and insist upon it so they could finish off the bottle of scotch during the movie. “The privilege of ownership,” she suggested as she shoved the bottle into Carol’s purse for her, “plus it’ll make the fantasy dance sequence that much more enjoyable.” 

“Fantasy dance sequence? What on earth - “

Harrie passed the purse back to Carol and said, “You don’t want realism. You want magic.”

* * *

Carol watched Harrie shut the door and walk down the illuminated path to the seats. “Aren't you worried someone will come in here and watch with us?”

“Nah,” Harrie replied, “then again, what did you have in mind?” Carol swatted her arm before sitting down somewhere in the middle of the auditorium. “Typically, I’d say sit anywhere, but sit right here.” 

Carol looked at her with a raised eyebrow and moved one seat down. The seat seemed no different than any of the others until Harrie sat beside her and gave a steady jab to the wooden ledge of the armrest, unhinging it from its position. As soon as she heard the snap, she flipped the armrest backward, leaving a gap between the two seats.

“What did _you_ have in mind?” Carol teased.

Harrie winked back at her. “How'd you like it?” When Carol moved closer as well and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, Harrie stretched an arm across the back of the seat to hold her closely. “Is this alright?” asked Harrie as she scooted closer.

“If we'd have had that when we were dating, we'd never have seen any of the movies released from 1939 to 1941.”

As soon as she saw Leo the Lion in Technicolor followed by three figures standing against a blue backdrop wearing yellow slickers and holding umbrellas, Carol smiled and rested her head on Harrie’s shoulder.

* * *

3:36 p.m.

“Does Therese know you love her?” Harrie asked as she stirred her coffee. Carol lowered her head and didn’t say anything. “You ought to tell her.”

“She might not accept. How did you feel months after… us?”

Harrie thought for a second then nodded. “Okay, I was still pretty upset with you. I dunno. But you know what? You’ll have at least tried because if you don't, you're going to regret it the rest of your life. When you were talking about Therese earlier, you lit up. I'm not sure how your day started that made you share an entire bottle of scotch with me, but when you showed up you were… I nearly didn't recognize you. Personality speaking. I saw the old you glimmer through when you talked about Therese.”

“Should I invite her for tea?”

“Invite her for tea,” Harrie agreed as she downed her cup of coffee in one go. “Somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet. Not your apartment.”

“You didn't like it?”

“I loved it, but I'm kinda glad you never decorated our house.” Carol opened her mouth to protest. “It's not my style,” she explained then drew Carol’s attention back to the topic of conversation. “Write that damn note. It's getting late.”

Carol opened her purse, rifling around for a paper and her pen. “She works only a few blocks from here. I can probably just drop it off.” She pulled a folded piece of unused stationery from inside, making sure the edges weren't bent or crumpled, and inspected the table surface for coffee rings or droplets of water before setting down the paper.

Harrie picked up the paper and looked at it, scoffing at the letterhead. There was an embossed name and address at the top, “Mrs. Hargess Aird” and a street in New Jersey. She chuckled and pointed to the name. “Good Lord, Carol, we desperately should get you some new stationery."

Carol laughed at the observation, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. “I know, I know.”

“Could I get you that as a divorce present?”

“I read that is the traditional, acceptable gift from a former lover. A box of those chocolate buttercreams I like wouldn't hurt either.” Feeling around inside her purse, Carol scoured around for her pen. When she found it, she placed it on top of the blank sheet of paper and then reached for her cup of coffee. 

Harrie recognized it right away and picked up the pen. Angling her head, she looked at the small gift she had given Carol for her nineteenth birthday, touched that she still carried it with her. “My, my… what a lovely pen you have there.”

“I use it everyday,” Carol admitted. “It's been this little, constant reminder of who I actually am, who I’ve been, who I can be. Even when I haven't recognized myself, even when I forget.”

“Just know that right now,” said Harrie as she rested the palms of her hands against the tabletop, “you’re gonna write one of those important things I told you about. Now where is that waitress?” Harrie looked around to get a refill of her coffee, but didn’t see anyone. “I’m just going to get some more coffee and make a phone call. Maybe get some doughnuts too. Back in a jiffy.” She slid out of the booth and stood at the counter, waving to the waitress in the back who was chatting with the short order cook.

Carol got as far as writing “Dearest Therese” then stopped. She paused to look at her soon-to-be former name at the top, an address with which she no longer wanted associate herself, the delicate threaded lines of the stationery, the way the ink seeped into the paper. She didn’t want to make it like the last letter she had written to Therese. 

Again, she put pen to paper and wrote a brief note, barely filling the top half of the piece of stationery. It was short and to the point, devoid of sentiment aside from opening with “Dearest.”

She paused before closing the note and signing her name, debating if she wanted to end with “Love” or “Yours.” 

“Did you write it?” Carol looked up from the paper in front of her and nodded. She turned it around so Harrie could read the message. “No, no. I don’t want to read it,” she said and pressed the note back toward her. Before sitting down, she placed a freshly filled mug of coffee on the table and half a sheet of blank paper. 

“Now, two things. Three things. Firstly, I said no to the doughnuts.” She motioned for Carol to pass her the pen she held in her hand. Harrie uncapped the top, beginning to quickly jot down an address, a date, and a time. “Number two… I do hope you don't think this is out of line - “

“Harriet, you know me better than most anyone. Nothing from you could ever be out of line or too personal.”

”Did you know Claire? At school?” Carol replied she didn’t. “She's an analyst here in the city. A really, really good one. I know what those fucking ‘doctors’ say and do. She knows… what goes on, what they tell you and make you think. The kinds of surgeries they make people have - “

“No, no, I never let them do that.”

Harrie finished writing and pressed the paper to Carol. “Trust me. You’ll be in good sympathetic hands with Claire. Just please, please, please, promise me you'll go talk to her. She's able to get you in next Thursday at five-thirty. Every Thursday at five-thirty if you want it.”

“Oh, Harrie. Always looking out for me.” She looked down at table and started to tear up.

“You must think of yourself and what's best for you and no one else. Think of it as a handkerchief and ‘never, at any crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief.’ Which I happen to have here for you as well.” Producing a clean handkerchief from her pocket, she passed it to Carol who gratefully accepted it.

Carol softly laughed, finally remembering having heard Rhett say that to Scarlett at the end of _Gone With the Wind_. They had seen it together three times in three different cities. She remembered how she was sobbing the first time they met, when Harrie had approached her as she cried during _The Ugly Duckling_ cartoon all those years ago; how lonely she had felt before she had met Harrie that day. “I don't deserve so much kindness from you. You have done so much for me.”

“If you hadn't noticed, I do it because I love you and no matter what, you're my friend.” Sitting back against the booth and lifting her coffee cup to take a sip, Harrie shook her head, unable to comprehend how Carol couldn't see what she had always seen. “One final thing,” Harrie began as she leaned forward to pick up the teaspoon to add some sugar to her coffee. “Would you have dinner with me, Sid, and James tonight?”

* * *

9:10 p.m.

Carol couldn’t understand how just a short walk could have possibly taken ninety minutes. She must have stood in front of the windows at Tiffany’s and Bergdorf’s forever; stared at the lobby cards posted at the Paris Theater for an eternity, thinking maybe she could catch the reissue of an old Harold Lloyd classic in a week. By the time she looked at the clock again, it was late. It was even darker than when she had left the Ritz Tower. Where had the time gone? Luckily, Carol only had to make her way across the street and up the stairs to the Oak Room. She hadn't even noticed the scattering of raindrops.

“Sorry I'm late, I was… ” Carol trailed off, looking around the room at the crowded restaurant. She'd forgotten what going out in the city for the evening felt like. Had it been that long? How the crowds sounded, the clamor of silverware pressing against fine china, the smell of cigarettes and cigars blending into the air of an enclosed space. Low piano music playing somewhere in the room, but with the crowd there was no telling where the piano actually sat. The traffic outside, the traffic inside of waitstaff milling about. It was almost too much to take in after such an absence.

“Don't apologize, we’ve already thrown back a couple of highballs and time is fleeting,” James replied. 

“How long's it been?” Carol asked.

“Too long!” Sid stood up and embraced her with short kisses to each cheek. “Wonderful to see you. Harrie suggested we get together next time all of us happened to be in Boston or New York.” 

Carol next greeted James, also with a hug and a kiss to each cheek. “It is so good to see you,” Carol said to Sid and James.

“I'm glad to see you as well.”

“Last time wasn’t under the most pleasant of circumstances.”

“Carol, I’m just pleased to know that you’re alright.”

“I am so - grateful - for everything.”

Then there stood Harrie, eagerly waiting her turn as she watched Carol hug James, smiling. As Carol put her arms around her, she realized that between these three, on that day, it was the first time she had received hugs from anyone in months. She clung to Harrie a moment longer than she had for the other two, taking a deep breath, then kissing one cheek instead of two. 

“How long are you two in town?” 

“Through the end of the month, then back to Blighty.”

“I failed to ask you earlier, but what about you, Harriet?”

“Same, but, up to Boston for a week or so then back to California until Teddy’s done with school. Then Jo and Teddy are joining me and all the sugar, jam, and tinned beef we can carry to England during the summer though.”

“Still?” Carol asked in a shocked tone. The others at the table all somberly nodded.

“Since the war ended, our Harrie here has been ordering a CARE parcel every week for a different family in the village,” James remarked. “Every time she has come over, it’s been nothing but a trunk filled with food, clothes, and other hard-to-find items. Those tampons were a smash.”

“Jamie… “ Harrie tried to shush him. 

“What? Don’t be modest, you’ve helped a lot of people, darling. Even with the seemingly innocuous items.”

Harrie picked up her wine glass and took a long sip before speaking. “The second time I went over and brought Teddy with me, when the customs inspector opened his suitcase - the one he declared as his - and it was filled with nothing but my worn stockings, skirts, garters, and lingerie because mine was full of the food and clothes, he said all haughty and exasperated, ‘do you mind?’ and they gave him this look, chalked an x onto his case and my trunk, and let us through. He was probably ten at the time and I had to keep myself from laughing too hard as to not get pulled aside. Well, he’s so sweet-looking,” Harrie argued, “he could probably pack copies of _The Well of Loneliness_ and _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ in there and they’d be none the wiser.”

“I take it no reunion next month at the old alma mater then?” Carol asked.

Harrie put down her glass of wine and chuckled, “Hell no. You?”

“Same. Maybe I’ll go to the fifteenth.” 

While the others looked at their menus, Carol instead was focused on the crowd in the restaurant, watching the movement of people and listening to the stay time of conversation and voices. She looked back at Harrie, too absorbed with her menu to note Carol observing her. She liked her simple dress, her new glasses, the way she had done her hair. It was all so familiar except for the glasses. A glint of silver caught her eye as she shifted from looking at her hair. “Those are beautiful pearl earrings,” Carol remarked.

Harrie raised her hands to her ears and swiped her fingers under each earlobe to show them off. “You got me these.”

“I did?”

“For my twenty-first. We were in Worcester, saw _Babes in Arms_ … “

“That's right.”

“You… “ Harrie stopped speaking and took another sip of her drink. Sid and James started talking among themselves, pointing out different items from the menu they might share. They were too engrossed in their own conversation to hear them.

“What?” asked Carol.

“You called me 'my girl with a pearl earring.’”

“What would you like, Jamie dear?” Sid asked in a loud voice. “I think I'll have steak with a side of steak au gratin and julienne steak.”

Harrie covered her eyes. “Honestly, boys, pick out something that won't be a complete embarrassment to Carol and me.” She took the napkin from her lap and place it on the table. “Carol, could you join me in the lounge for a moment? We can let the boys finish deciding what cuts of beef they would like to order.” Harrie stood quickly so there would be room for Carol to pass by her chair.

The plush floral chairs and couches in lounge were empty, as were the mirrors lining the right wall, and it didn't sound as though anyone else was in there with them. The lighting was terrible and everything smelled of talcum powder. “I saw mostly men out there tonight so figured we'd have the place to ourselves.”

Carol unpinned her hat, placing the pin inside her purse and the hat in her hands, tracing with the rounded edges with her fingers. Against the background of the black half-hat in her hands, her red fingernails stood out as she tapped her fingers on the fabric.

“Are you alright?” Harrie saw Carol struggling for a second time that day. Without a second thought, she reached for her hand before even looking around to see if there was anyone else. She didn’t care. “What happened?”

“It was the strangest thing.” Carol sat lost in her thoughts, looking out at the empty room, no sounds, no people, no nothing. “It was like in… “ Carol stopped herself and shook her head. “She was cold. I made someone I love only regard me with the coolest of responses and reactions. She doesn’t… she’s not… “

“Did you tell her?”

“I told her.”

“She just needs more time, Carol.”

“I asked her to come live with me, but… she said no.”

“She’s what? Nineteen? She’s young, give her some time. What was your mindset at nineteen?”

“You should know,” she smirked. “We’re not the best example because we were practically living together; things were very different for us, so much easier. I laid everything out on the table for her, but… “ Carol stared off at nothing and sighed, “I don’t think she’s interested. She has her own life now.”

Harrie squeezed her hand a couple of times to assure her. “She’ll come round, Carol.”

“I told her… I told her in case she changed her mind to join us tonight. I hope that’s alright.”

“Certainly! I would love to meet Therese!” Harrie grinned. “In the meantime, would you please let me extend the offer for you to come up to Boston with me on Sunday? We could get in a museum or two… the big game on Monday… seafood… “ Harrie prodded with her elbow.

Brushing back her hair, Carol faintly smiled and said, “As of now, count me in.”

* * *

Harrie listened as James and Sid chatted. Something about visiting the Met in the morning and not sure what to start with on their walk through. Harrie sat drinking her glass of claret, listening to the two of them talk, glancing over at Carol every couple of minutes to see her drifting off.

“Carol, you’re the art historian. What should we see?” asked Sid.

Carol wasn't listening. She was lost in hum of the crowd and movement of the waiters shuffling around the room. She looked at the guests sitting at the tables near her, drinking, laughing, having a good time. Were they actually having a good time or were they masking how they actually felt like she was? No, it was wonderful being there with Harrie, James, and Sid after all those years and reconnecting with friends who knew her for whom she truly was. How long had it been since she was surrounded by kind, like-minded individuals?

Carol looked back at Sid for a moment, going on about some Degas ballerina paintings he wanted to see, and then she returned her gaze to the crowded room, watching everyone enjoy their Friday evening. She lit another cigarette, needing something to occupy her hands and distract her, even if only for a few minutes.

She looked back over at Sid and James, both desperately trying to hide the fact that after almost twenty-five years, they were still madly in love with one another, not caring that they were seated in a crowded Manhattan restaurant, but they were in their own little area by the wall, and no one could see aside from Carol, the loving looks James kept giving to Sid. They kept joking back and forth with one another, namely how James was getting grey around the temples and losing his hair as the “old man” of the group.

“Shut it, Sid,” Harrie shouted from across the table. Carol missed the camaraderie between them and laughed at Harrie forever telling her brother to stop butting in. “As I was saying, oddly enough… “

And Harrie. Every time Carol looked at her, she could tell that her thoughts were about three thousand miles away, back home with Ted and Jo, despite jovially sitting there with the three of them.

Carol knew she would soon be going home to her new apartment on Madison Avenue. An empty apartment sparsely filled with new furnishings, loneliness, and a refrigerator filled only with a few beers, a bottle of white wine, imported cheeses, and a pint of cream. Maybe some stale baguette or crackers if she was lucky. It was no different than being at the house in Ridgewood that past winter, except the apartment was hers, and no one dared show up unannounced.

Perhaps she should be by herself for a while, not in a relationship with anyone. After all, being paired off with someone didn’t define who one was. It didn’t determine her worth. Carol realized that since she was nineteen, she had been in a relationship with someone, always tied to another person in some form. While they might not have necessarily been living together throughout the relationship, like it had been when Harrie moved to California, or when Harge was in the Pacific, or those months Carol was in France after the war, she was still inevitably tied to them. 

This time when gazing into the crowd again, her view was obstructed. Someone stood in the path directly before her faintly smiling, completely motionless several feet in front of the table. The expressionless look Carol had all throughout dinner faded into a beaming smile as she turned to Harrie, instantly muttering excuses about having to cancel her plans to join her in Boston on Sunday. She would be staying right there in Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36QiuRc_3I8) for _Singin' in the Rain_ (1952) dir. Gene Kelly  & Stanley Donen


	18. Designing Woman

Saturday, April 20th, 1957  
11:45 a.m.

Harrie shut her eyes and stood still, debating whether or not to answer the phone. Jacket on, purse tightly clutched in her left hand, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor, she waited.

The shrill ring of the telephone stopped as soon as she picked up the handset. "This better be life or death because I am out the door and headed to Fenway in five minutes," she wearily sighed into the mouthpiece.

"JackandIareonrestrictionfortherestoftheschoolyearandthat'swhywecan'tcomehomeforEaster."

Harrie blinked a few times as she snapped out of her malaise and tried to process of the rapid string of words her son was loudly saying into the telephone. "Boys, boys… slow down. Teddy, what did you say, honey?"

"We're on restriction for a month." There was a heavy, audible sigh into the telephone from Teddy. "Practically the rest of the school year."

"What on earth did you boys do?"

There was a pause, and then some muttering between the two, followed by Jack's voice. "We were in bed, reading," he sniffled, "and someone came by to make sure we had the lights out and… opened the door… "

"We were dressed!" Teddy shouted from the background.

"It's okay, Jack. It's just restriction and - "

"It's not okay, Harrie!" he shouted into the phone. "The school sends a letter home to my parents. If they find out… they'll ship me off somewhere and… "

"You're over eighteen, where would they - " Harrie patiently began to ask then realized the answer without having to go any further. In a split moment, she realized several possible, terrible outcomes without having to say anything further to a very worried Jack on the other end of the phone. "Okay, alright, don't panic, sweetheart. Could you please put Teddy back on?"

Harrie waited for Teddy to take the phone back, listening to him in the background reassure Jack that everything was alright.

"Yeah, mum?"

"I'm not cross."

"I know."

"Make sure Jack knows that, alright?"

"He knows."

"Please give him a hug for me. When no one's looking, that is," she added with a chuckle.

"I will."

"Now, what about this letter?"

"The school sends a letter home when you go on restriction, explaining what happened, how we can't leave school and have detention every night, Sunday mornings, etc. They would also like a meeting with the parents on Monday since you live so close and all."

"For fuck's sake… " Teddy sighed into the phone and waited for his mother to cease with the never-ending string of expletives. "Are Jack's parents coming?"

"No, mum. See that's the thing: they're in Europe until the end of the month."

Harrie smiled and shook her head in disbelief. "In that case… let me make a call. I think we can sort this out."

* * *

Sunday, April 21st, 1957  
2:15 p.m.

"Hiya, dimples."

Therese smiled whenever Harrie called her that, stepping to the side to let Harrie into the apartment. "Hey, Harrie, Happy Easter." Therese greeted, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Come on in." Her arms were full, carrying a bag with a wrapped present and something else. Not to mention, she was sweating profusely from walking only a short distance.

"So much for spring, we've jumped right into summer. I did not dress appropriately," Harrie commented as she held out the lapels of her suit jacket to air out her shirt. "In fact," she looked at Therese who was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting shirt, wandering around barefoot, "I am not at all appropriately dressed for this occasion, am I?"

Therese shook her head no and grinned. "You want to borrow something of Carol's?"

"No, I got my overnight bag. There's probably something in there," said Harrie as she angled her body so Therese could see the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. "Smells good in here."

"Carol just put the steaks on when the doorman phoned up."

"Steaks? For Easter?"

Therese shut the door and looked around. "Abby's back with the redhead from the steakhouse, so… hope you're hungry."

Harrie chuckled. "Always. It smells amazing. Really good idea too, cooking outside on a day like today." Before pulling off her suit jacket, Therese took the large bag from her hands, easily overflowing with the wrapped packages, and when she peered inside, noted a handful of chocolate pops and candies. Harrie thanked her, draping her jacket over the hook in the entryway.

"Where's Joanne?"

Looking in the mirror to briefly fluff the curls that billowed outward, Harrie didn't answer right away and kept fixing her hair, finally taking off her glasses to clip onto the front of her blouse. "JoJo? Oh, she's in California. That time of year."

"Oh, right." Therese quickly peered into the bag she held, not very carefully studying its contents, but curious as to what could possibly weigh so much in such a small space. "What on earth is in the bag?" Therese asked as she finally had to put it on the floor to rest.

"Birthday presents for Rindy," she answered, then looked around to see if Rindy was within an earshot. She had too readily learned over the past ten years that children had a knack for showing up when and where least expected.

"Don't worry," Therese assured her, "she's out on the terrace with Carol."

Harrie relaxed and pointed to the bag. "It's an Erector Set. Sets. One is new and the other one was Teddy's."

"Did Ted say it was alright?" asked Therese with a pointedly raised eyebrow. Harrie nodded back. "She is a spoiled little girl."

"All our kids are wicked spoiled," Harrie agreed as she began to walk into the living room. "But we wouldn't have it any other way, would we?" she remarked with a nudge of Therese's shoulder and a wink.

"What else you got? You never seem to show up here empty handed."

"You got me. I made some hot cross buns," Harrie teased, then pulled out a small cardboard box so she could open it to let Therese peek inside. "Well, they're not hot at the moment, but we can heat them up for tomorrow morning, _and_ … there are some without raisins for you and Rindy."

"Now I'm spoiled." Therese gestured with her head for them to move into the living room. "Come on, we can go sit outside with Carol." Making their way to the terrace, Harrie trudged along with overnight bag in one hand while Therese managed the other bag with the baked goods and presents. She saw Carol on the terrace, standing by the grill rotating foil-wrapped potatoes and flipping over steaks, all while wearing her sunglasses, a long baggy shirt, leopard-print capris, and the floppiest black hat she'd ever seen. Carol waved at her from the distance and pointed at Harrie's clothes; Harrie smiled back, bashful at being so overdressed.

"Actually, let me freshen up and change."

"Yeah, you'll be more comfortable. Then join us outside."

"Good 'cause I think I got a plan."

* * *

Tuesday, April 23rd, 1957  
7:04 a.m.

"I'll say it again: You're both completely nuts."

Harrie looked up at Therese, grinning as she pulled on a pair of flat shoes for driving. "We know."

"You're going to drive down to Virginia - "

"Yes," Carol said.

" - while they're away - to steal the mail - "

"Please. We're going to… get the mail for her while she's out of town," Harrie jokingly insisted with a wave of her hand.

" - so that our nephew won't end up in carted off to some psych facility for being caught in bed with Harrie and Jo's son, whom he met at boarding school and has been in love with for the past four years."

Harrie repeatedly nodded her head and smiled. "Yeah."

Therese nervously retied her bathrobe, and stood staring at both Carol and Harrie as they got ready to leave. "You're worse than Abby. Have you two always been like this?"

Peering into the vanity mirror to see Therese's reflection, all the while brushing her hair, Carol replied, "Always." Harrie smiled back again, nodding in agreement. Carol finished brushing her hair and packed the brush into her vanity case. "You sure you'll be alright with Rindy?"

"Yeah, we'll have a great time," Therese started, "but you know we'll miss you. Abby will come over this afternoon while I'm out, then pick her up from school."

"Give her my regards, yeah?" Harrie requested. "I'll leave ten bucks in the kitchen for you to go to dinner."

"You don't have to - "

"Go somewhere nice. Rindy will love it."

Carol looked over at the sheets and blankets on the window seat, and walked over to gather the crumpled mess to place in the laundry hamper. "Argh," Carol moaned, "we ought to have another real bedroom in this apartment with all these comings and goings lately."

"It only gets worse as they get older," Harrie noted. "Luckily with Jack and Teddy, they've been sharing the same bed for a while now. One less bed to have to worry about!"

Carol turned around, standing at the closet door with her hands on her hips. "That is exactly why they got put on restriction in the first place."

"Oh, right," Harrie muttered, her hands busy putting on her other shoe. Carol tugged on the edge of the comforter to start making the bed, causing Harrie to lose her balance as she tumbled down onto the rug. "You're an ass."

Therese tightened the black bathrobe around her waist for a third time, trying not to laugh even though, in the end, it made her cough by trying to hold it in for so long. "Okay, you. Out. Let me say goodbye to - "

"Alright, alright… " Harrie laughed, raising both hands in the air.

"Out," Carol agreed. "Go make sure Rindy's all set for school… or have some breakfast…. or second breakfast… or build something with that kit you gave her. Take your time… "

"I'm not a freakin' hobbit, I'll have you know." Rolling her eyes and standing with a sly grin on her face, Harrie shook her head as she walked backward toward the door where Therese stood, impatiently waiting to lock the door behind her. "Thirty minutes. Max. Then we gotta split so we can make it before dark and hopefully beat some of that Baltimore and DC traffic."

"Look after Carol, would ya?" Therese said as she hugged her. "Bye, Harrie. Drive safely."

Harrie shut the bedroom door behind her, immediately hearing the snap of the lock the moment the door clicked shut. Oh, those kids, she laughed to herself as she made her way to the kitchen to fill a thermos with coffee and make a pot of tea.

Once in the kitchen, she spotted Rindy sitting at the table eating one of the pastries she had brought the day before and sipping a glass of apple juice. "Good morning, Aunt Harrie," said Rindy as soon as Harrie popped her head in. She smiled back at the little girl before as she pulled out the chair next to her and sat down to watch Rindy finish her breakfast. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"You're what?" Rindy asked with a puzzled look.

"Starving," Harrie repeated.

"Again?"

" _Stah_ \- " Harrie shook her head and laughed. "Sonofa… not you too?"

Rindy began to giggle. "Gotcha. I bet Mommy I could get you to say that. She owes me a nickel!"

"Two peas in a pod. Next time she does that, let me know and I'll triple what she offers you." Harrie kissed her on the head and quickly scanned the kitchen. "Where's the rest of those buns from yesterday?"

"Check inside." Rindy pointed over her shoulder with her left hand to the oven behind her.

Harrie pulled the oven door down to find the pink box from the day earlier, and all but two remained. "We sure did a number on these."

"I had one before bed last night," Rindy admitted. "Therese had one already this morning while Mommy was in the shower."

"Did she make your lunch?"

Rindy swung her legs back and forth and giggled. "No!" She got up from the table and walked to the sink to wash her plate and utensils. "I make my own lunches, Aunt Harrie. And I make my own breakfast. Sometimes Mommy helps."

"Does she now?" Harrie laughed. "How are you getting to school today? You want us to drop you off in the car on our way out or you want to go on the Vespa with dimples?"

"Is it raining?"

Harrie peered out the window. "No."

"I'll go with Therese." Rindy finished washing her dishes and set everything to dry next to the sink. "You always call Therese 'dimples.'"

"I do."

"Why?"

Harrie sat back in her seat and rested her elbow on the chair next to her. "Several years ago, when I saw your mother for the first time in a very, very long time, it was right before Therese came to live here with her. She was… well, she… When I asked her to tell me more about this Therese, the first thing your mum said was, 'Therese has the most gorgeous dimples.' I suppose it's always stuck and I've always associated Therese with those dimples thanks to her." Harrie pulled apart the bun she was planning to eat so she could warm each half in the toaster. After placing each side into a slot, Harrie reached for the kettle on the stove to boil some water and raised her arm to get Rindy's attention again. "Do you want some tea, Rin?"

Rindy scrunched up her nose. "At breakfast?"

"When I was even younger than you, my mum would make me tea at breakfast. Not like afternoon tea though: Lots of milk and one spoonful of sugar."

"Okay," said Rindy. Harrie filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, then sat back down to wait for the water to boil. "Does your mother still make tea for you?"

"No, she passed away a long time ago."

"Oh."

Harrie emptily smiled back at her and took a deep breath. "My mum had an operation and then… then she got very, very sick. I was probably your age."

Rindy stood up and walked over to Harrie, wrapping her arms around her to give her a hug. "I'm sorry," she softly said.

"Awww, Rin," Harrie hugged her back and then waited for Rindy to return to her seat. "Thank you. It was a very long time ago." She wanted to say everything was fine, that time heals, that it stops hurting so much, and that, over the years, she had almost forgotten her and become completely accustomed to never really having a parent in her life. Or both parents for that matter since she had hardly seen her own father after her mother died. Harrie couldn't say that to Rindy. Not that she thought for a second that Carol and Therese would ever let her forget her father.

"What was she like?"

"She was… my mum was funny," Harrie replied with a smile, "not to mention had a seriously wicked accent, much much worse than mine… and she swore a lot... and she totally didn't curb that in my presence when I was little. Smart. Really really smart. She could sit and just… write. Non-stop focus and concentration. Whether it was on a typewriter or by hand… and if by hand? She was a leftie, so she would have all these smudges on the side of her hand and then on her face… then somehow all over me if I came in to bug her about something and she'd give me hug… a total mess."

Rindy giggled as she looked at the teacup in front of her, then suddenly got very serious and quiet as she finished her glass of juice. "My daddy passed away in July. Did you know him?"

"I did. I knew him before your mother and he married," Harrie said as Rindy expectantly regarded her, waiting for Harrie to keep talking about him. "Let's see… "

Thinking for a moment, Harrie tried to remember what the three of them used to do together in the summer whenever Harge showed up at the house. She remembered the time Harge tossed her into the pool and she landed in the water on the flat of her back, which was probably the most pain she had ever been in her entire life. There was always that night in winter they were on the Merritt Parkway and the car got a flat, and Harge being all proud of his mechanical skills, bounded out of the car to fix it. As soon as Harrie offered to help, he smiled back at her and said not to worry, and that she should just get in the back seat with Carol to stay warm. It wasn't as if she could never have refused that suggestion. And Carol certainly hadn't been cold for long.

Finally, she chuckled and blurted out, "He was a whiz at fixing cars. Nothing else mechanical like house stuff, just cars. Under any circumstances. He could… " Harrie looked around the room at the items in the kitchen to see if something would jog her memory. She noticed the refrigerator and freezer, remembering them going out for ice cream. "He could demolish - and I mean demolish - a butterscotch nut sundae with all the fixings."

Rindy laughed. "That sounds more like Teddy!"

"Yeah. Boys - men, I should say - with their appetites," she laughed. "Has your mother taught you how to make tea?"

"No. She said there's a science to it and I should let the scientist, a.k.a.'The Expert' teach me."

"You know she means me."

"Yeah."

"It took her two months to learn how to make it properly. Next time she brings it up, you tell her you don't require 'The Expert' to teach you because she's perfectly skilled at it and scientist-approved. Alright?"

"Yes, but you'll tell me _why_. I like knowing that."

"Okay, next Saturday's tutoring lesson will be, firstly, going over what we were supposed to go over this past Saturday, and secondly, learning how to brew the perfect pot of tea and _why_ it's perfect. And don't forget your French for Aunt Jo - "

"It's already done."

"Did your mum check it over?"

"Yes." Rindy answered. She was quiet for a moment, watching as Harrie poured the boiling water and tea leaves into a teapot to steep. "You always say 'mum' instead of 'mom.' Teddy calls you 'mum' all the time."

Harrie squinted, watching Rindy look at her curiously and swinging her legs back and forth. "It'd be kind of silly for him to say, 'hey, mom!' and both your Aunt Jo and I be popping up. Wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," she laughed.

"So, Teddy calls your Aunt Joanne 'mom' or sometimes ' _maman_ ,' and he calls me 'mum.' That's what your Uncle Sid and I called our mother growing up."

"I like that." Rindy took a sip of her tea then looked up with a smile. Harrie could tell she was thinking of something, unsure of what to ask or what to say, knowing she was thinking about Therese, and for whatever reason, didn't elaborate or didn't know how to elaborate on the subject. So much like her mother, Harrie thought to herself. After a lull in conversation and a few sips of tea, Rindy then asked, "What about Mother's Day then?"

"Ah, well, your Aunt Jo takes the usual Mother's Day in May. I take another Sunday in March or April. Mothering Sunday, which is what's celebrated in England. That way, we each have a special day."

"I see." Rindy finished her cup of tea and sat all the way back in her seat. "I'm going to miss Mommy while she's away."

"Oh, it'll be alright, Rin. She'll call you everyday. And you'll have Therese here to help you with your homework and tuck you in at night..."

"Is Jack in trouble?"

"No, everything's alright. We're just going down to Virginia to see your aunt about something."

Rindy wrinkled her nose. "Aunt Elaine smells funny."

"How'd you mean?"

"She wears this gross perfume that stinks up my room whenever she stays over. Plus she's rude to Therese and mean to Mommy."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harrie laughed and finished her tea. "There's a name for a lady like her… " she murmured out of the corner of her mouth as she put her teacup down and kept chatting with a very inquisitive Rindy as she waited for Carol so they could get on the road.

10:46 a.m.

"You're awake."

"I'm sorry." Carol looked out the car window to see where they were, her face pressed against the cool glass, then shifted to see the clock. As she moved, the blanket she had wrapped around herself fell into her lap and Carol shifted her arms and shoulders forward and back to reanimate her movements. "I fell asleep."

"Don't be sorry. You had… quite the morning, I'd say" Harrie said with a snicker. "We're almost out of New Jersey."

" _Minette_ ," Carol sighed, "you shouldn't have let me sleep that long."

Harrie meowed in response, chuckling to herself as she watched Carol rub the corners of her eyes out of her peripheral, careful to not smudge her mascara. "It's fine. I know… you."

"Do you?"

"You were 'saying goodbye' to dimples for about half an hour." Carol couldn't resist the wry smile that appeared while trying very hard to hide what she was thinking. Harrie knew. Harrie knew how hesitant Carol had been to leave, especially after she and Therese didn't have their bedroom to themselves the night before. "You fell asleep. I get it."

"I wasn't - "

"It's okay," Harrie laughed and nudged her friend. "I'm just teasing. I know you. Good morning."

"Was I snoring?"

"Very softly. Hardly noticeable."

"How you lie! Where are we again?"

"Somewhere near the state line, I think. I'm going to pull over in a little bit though."

"Normally I'd ask if you want me to take over driving, however my best guess is you're hungry?"

"Always, and I would kill for a vanilla Coke," answered Harrie who poked at the map beside Carol. "Are there any soda fountains near here?"

"How should I know? And it's not even eleven!"

"So? Haven't you driven this route loads of times?"

"No," Carol answered with a laugh.

"More than me though. We gotta gas anyway."

Carol thought of the few car trips she had taken with Harge down to Rehoboth to visit his family friends, the insufferable times the two of them would be crammed into the Packard or his old Dodge in the middle of a stifling summer; sometimes, even with Rindy in the car. At least whenever she had gone by herself to see her sister in Virginia, she had taken the train and oughtn't bother with making stops along the way.

Harrie reached over and took Carol's hand, still calmly steering with only her left hand on the wheel. "You know, I like our time together."

"Really?"

"I like talking with you. And I especially like spending time with you while JoJo does whatever - whoever - it is back in California."

"I like it too," Carol said and then promptly added, "I mean, the time with you. How come don't you take the opportunity to do something yourself? Alone?"

Harrie gently tapped the brakes, causing the two of them to slightly shift in their seats. "Sorry," she said and squeezed Carol's hand to affirm she was alright then let go to grip the wheel again. "I don't mind spending the time by myself, but I prefer to spend it with you and Therese. Rindy too. Gives us time to catch up, do something fun together. You're fun to be around. As long as you don't mind me being a third wheel. Fourth wheel."

"You're no third wheel, Harriet," Carol warmly assured her. "Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"Jo."

"Jo what?"

"Her annual trip. To see that fellow."

"Oh, that?" Of course Harrie knew what Carol had been talking about, she was only trying to buy herself some time in responding. She shrugged her shoulders, squirming around in her seat, feigning trying to get comfortable when she already was. "Nah, it doesn't - "

"Harriet."

"What?"

"Harrie."

"What?" Harrie shouted, yet somehow also managed to let out a nervous laugh at the end of it.

"Don't hide. It bothers you."

"No, it doesn't."

"It does. More than you'd prefer to let on."

Rubbing her hand against the back of her neck, flipping her hair to the side to scratch the lowest part of her hairline. "Maybe a little, but it's not - you know - the most pressing of issues we have."

Waiting a couple beats to see if Harrie would keep talking, Carol hesitated saying anything until she noticed her friend silently looking straight out the window, fixated on driving. "Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Don't be difficult."

"I'm not!"

"We'll just come back to that later." Within the small confines of the car, Carol folded up the blanket that rested on her lap and placed it on the bench seat between the two of them. "Is it strange to you that my two best friends are also former lovers? You being one of them?"

"No. I think it's swell. We're both lucky like that, Carol. We don't have any petty jealousies. We're all in the same boat and we know it. We stick together. I know maybe five other couples, including some girls from Miss Hall's and Smith, who are in committed relationships, but no one else has kids. You and Therese are the only other couple we know raising a child. It's important we have one another like that."

Carol thought about Rindy, about her being at home with Abby and Therese for a few days without her, as she gazed out the car window. As they passed a sign approaching the state line into Delaware, Carol began to smile and tap on her window.

"Pull over next exit."

12:29 p.m.

"Happy now?" asked Carol as she started the car up, turning her head to look at Harrie who was trying to make herself comfortable in the passenger seat. "Or happier at least?"

Harrie only replied with a smile, masking something between a cough and a burp from inhaling a highly carbonated vanilla Coke. "Very."

"You're not going to burp the rest of your way there?"

"Give me some credit now, Carol. I'm not that… "

" _Mal élevée_?"

"Yeah, that. You'd think I'd know that one fairly well considering how often I hear it from Jo and Teddy," she laughed. "As we were sitting there having lunch I was just thinking, isn't it sweet how the boys are in love? It just kind of hits me every once in a while. I guess this was one of those times."

"How were the boys when you saw them?"

Harrie laughed, removing her shoes, careful not to scuff the side of the door. "When I walked into the common room, Teddy, Jack, and about two other boys from their little singing group were preparing a song for a school meeting in a couple weeks."

"Which one?"

"'I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair.'" Carol rolled her eyes, mindful to keep her focus on the road and not Harrie who was laughing and smirking along, badly singing to her. "Yeah, we're probably going to have to go back up there in a couple weeks."

"Now I kind of want to see them in a production of _South Pacific_ ," she dryly observed. "They are adorable. I'm so - happy - for Jack. And Teddy. It's so… it makes me smile."

"We've been letting them share a bedroom - bed, I ought to say - for the past two years," Harrie pointedly said as she pulled the plaid wool blanket around her and debated where to place her head, either against the window or in Carol's lap. "It's just easier that way. We're what the kids call 'cool parents.' And you know what? I think it's been good for them." Noticing Harrie angling her head from left (Carol's lap) to right (the passenger side window) and back again, Carol patted her lap. Harrie paused before moving, scooting down on the seat to rest her head on Carol's thigh. "Am I okay?" Carol nodded, pulling up the blanket as her friend got comfortable. "Instead of worrying about a girl or when they're gonna get laid, they have each other. They're not sneaking around. They're learning about relationships… responsibility. No one's getting knocked up - "

" - thank goodness - "

" - and they can fully focus on school while having a responsible sexual outlet. Think about it: how much time did you spend in high school and college preoccupied with thoughts about sex?"

" _Before_ we were together?"

"Yup. Sex you weren't having."

Carol paused then smirked. "I see your point."

"I think that's why they've done so well, academically speaking. Removing the stigma of that 'premarital relations' bullshit has done wonders."

"Did you… you know?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you ever… have a… talk? With Ted?"

"I did. Actually, it was more like he asked supplementary questions to some reading and I answered. He was nine." Harrie smiled to herself, thinking back to the day when Teddy was about nine and came into their bedroom with a copy of his mother's marriage and pregnancy handbook he'd found tucked away somewhere, informing them he'd read the whole thing, but still had questions because everything he read sounded negative, especially as there was no mention in the book of two men (like his uncles) or two women (like his mothers). Harrie tossed the book aside and spent the next hour answering every question he had, after which both she and Jo vowed to toss it out or donate it seeing how upset it had made their son. Of course, Harrie couldn't discard it without scribbling comments and crossing out sections throughout that would probably make the fortunate new owner's eyes bulge out. "Then we talked about dating before he went to school - you knew that though - and that was when… well, when Jo and I kind of pieced everything together. Sid and Jamie sat down with Teddy and Jack after that second year of school… after they told us they were together."

"Your brother's something else."

"It wasn't as though they would ever hear anything positive from anyone else. I didn't sit in on their talk, but I think it helped them tremendously."

"I think Abby was sore that she couldn't give either of them advice on sleeping with women," Carol chuckled. "I don't know, I mean, they're two boys… young men… "

"What? You wondering what you're going to do with Rindy?"

"It's different with girls. Unless she's dating another girl, then we're completely okay with that approach. The sharing a bed sort of thing."

"As long as they are respectful… and quiet… it's fine. Holding hands, snuggling, kissing - no necking - totally fine when we're home and together. You've talked with Therese before about it then?"

"Once or twice."

"You think she's… "

"I don't know. Does anyone really know? She's only nine. I mean, she knows about it. She knows that Therese and I are together, that Jack and Ted are together, Sid and Jamie. She knows Ted has two mothers - which took moderate explaining on our part - and that you and Joanne are together. I think she's just beginning to understand that Therese is also her mother and that she's not going anywhere. Especially after what's happened with Harge, that is all the more important right now that she have that family stability."

"Rindy's a sweetheart," Harrie said after a considerable period of silence, and tucking her glasses into the glove compartment. "She has all the kindness of you. And Harge. I mean, the Harge I remember."

"Thank you. And she's outright developing Therese's cheekiness," Carol quickly added. "It's been a bit of a challenge though; weaning her of those habits from living with Harge and his parents. Chauffeurs. Nannies. Housekeepers. Maids. She spent so many formative years there shuffled between all these people who weren't her family - her mother and father, I ought to say."

"This morning, while you and Therese were - saying goodbye - I was having breakfast with Rin and… she got to asking why Teddy calls me mum and Jo mom. And wondering what we do for Mother's Day. She brought that up too. I think she's still… curious. Maybe trying to figure out exactly what the two of you have? Who you are to each other."

"She understands, but I think she's just… hesitant to take the next step. That's the word I'm looking for here. I think she's also trying to understand, at this point, who her family is. She adores Abby and you and Joanne; loves the time you spend together. Jack is much more a brother to her than a cousin. Teddy as well."

"I know Teddy is terribly fond of her too. And they write each other. It's very sweet."

"Even when Rindy was a baby, Jack would sit up with her when I was too tired and Harge wasn't around. Jack sensed I wasn't doing well sometimes when we'd visit… you know, before Therese and everything. He'd read to her, talk to her, play with her. One wouldn't think a boy his age would be like that with a baby - a little girl at that - but he was. It reminded me so much of you sometimes it hurt; so much of how'd you be with Jack when he had been a baby," Carol admitted. "I think… he got that from you."

"He got it from you, Carol. You are and always have been the good influence in his life," Harrie said as she shut her eyes and yawned, turning to face the back of the seat. "Also, you owe Rindy five cents because I said _stahving_ ," she murmured, then fell asleep curled as best she could along the bench seat of the car seeing as she was too tall to fully extend her legs.

2:15 p.m.

After over an hour of driving, not listening to the radio and only cruising along to the music in her mind, Carol tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, becoming increasingly antsy over the silence. Not complete silence since Harrie had managed to flop onto her back, lulled to sleep by the consistent movement of the car and was happily snoring. Noticing a sizeable gap between her car and the next, she looked down at Harrie and pinched her nose, resulting in only two more snores and a bout of coughing.

"Oh, you're up."

Harrie raised her arm and gently smacked the top of Carol's arm. "I was sleepin'!"

"You were snoring and muttering something about ice cream." Harrie grumbled something unintelligible and pulled up the blanket that had moved when she shifted from sleeping on her side to sleeping on her back. "Harriet, I'd like to know what you think about something."

Rubbing her eyes a couple times and swiping her hand against her brow, Harrie tilted her head up to look at Carol as she groggily spoke. "Of course, gorgeous. Anything."

"I've been considering quitting my job."

"I thought you liked it?"

"I do. I love it, but… "

"But?"

"I miss Rindy. In the afternoons."

"You know that's alright, don't you? If you want to stay home with her - or just be there when she gets home every single day."

"When I got home from my appointment Thursday and realized that I only had an hour with her before bed; even then she was busy with her homework. She's getting older, will be able to stay up later; granted she'll have more homework and friends and extracurriculars. I missed out on all those years with her." Carol stopped speaking and looked out the window for a minute, checking for traffic coming up from the left. "What did you do? With Ted?"

Harrie began to laugh. "I'm a terrible housewife, if that's what you want to know."

"Housewife," Carol teasingly said as she draped her arm down around Harrie's shoulder. "That couldn't possibly be true. When we were together… when we looked after Jack… we were a formidable team."

"Yeah, because it was you and me. We did everything together from sun up to sundown. We were both home with him, and it was fun when it was the pair of us. Making meals, teaching him how to swim, doing laundry and ironing, reading or looking at books… it was both of us, always together. We were young, we had all the time in the world. Jo's never made me feel like a housewife though, I must say. She pitched in whenever possible, which is more than I can say for most of the husbands I've met. Overall though, I was at home in the mornings with Jo, she'd head out, I'd work in my lab, on my own schedule, picking up Teddy from school in the afternoon, and then we'd have the rest of the day together either with reading, playing cricket, science lessons, making dinner, things like that. I mean, Jo was great with him on the weekends and everything, and that worked fine. I made damn sure though Teddy knew how to do everything. That's why he's so good at taking care of himself. "

"Did he like it? That arrangement?"

Waiving her head from side to side, Harrie thought for a moment then smiled. "I think so. I think that's why we've always been close, why he's helpful and considerate. He knows the effort, time, and care that go into things, even the simplest of things. He's appreciative, and I think he's imparted some of that wisdom onto Jack."

"I want what you had with Teddy when he was Rindy's age."

Harrie tugged at Carol's hand and began to speak again, "What does dimples think? About work?"

"Therese?" Carol tapped the steering wheel with her fingernail and thought. "She's all for me staying home or… "

"Or?"

"Well… I was thinking… maybe… of opening my own shop. Having more autonomy."

"Do it! I think that'd be terrif."

"I could have a couple staff, maybe Abby even, keep my own hours - essentially work mornings - did you say 'terrif'?"

"Yeah."

"Blast from the past."

The front right wheel rolled over a branch and jostled Harrie forward. "Ow. Watch it."

"Sorry."

"What else did she say?"

"We didn't get into it really. It was something that only hit me Thursday when I was with Claire."

"How is Claire by the way?"

Carol laughed, although quickly masked her laughter as she cleared her throat. "She's well. Better. She and Evelyn broke up."

Tilting her head to the side in disbelief, Harrie looked at Carol without saying anything for a moment. She later turned her head to look out the passenger window, noticing the way the greenery had slightly changed from northern New Jersey into Maryland. Harrie sniffled a couple times then glared back at Carol. "Fucking Evelyn."

"It wasn't necessarily her fault."

"It was. Ten bucks says it was. Fifty bucks says she ran off with her husband." It was Harrie's turn to laugh as she watched Carol drive, her eyes shifting to the way her hands gripped the steering wheel. "Again."

3:04 p.m.

As Harrie exited the shop, Carol observed her friend precariously balance two ice cream cones in one hand as she pushed the screen door open with the other and rushed outside. While Carol started up the car, she pulled out the map to double-check the route, resting it against the steering wheel to get a full view of where they were headed. The road was becoming increasingly familiar to her as they made their way closer to the house. They weren't far, maybe thirty minutes away at best, but they had been having too much fun stopping along the way, chatting, or otherwise distracting one another. And all Harrie could do was talk about was stopping for an ice cream since she'd woken from her nap.

When Harrie opened the passenger door, she flopped down into the seat without a word and rolled down her window. The ice cream cones she had been carrying not five seconds earlier weren't in her hands and when Carol folded up the map to look at the path from the door of the shop to the car, she didn't spot anything that had fallen onto the ground.

"I took for granted where we were for a second," Harrie flatly mentioned, brushing the curls away from her eyes and taking repeated deep breaths. "Let's get outta here."

As they pulled out of the parking spot and drove past the shop, Carol noticed the small "Whites Only" sign attached to the door, then two children off to the side, walking away from the shop, cheerfully licking ice cream cones and waving as they slowly drove by. Carol smiled as she realized what Harrie had done and turned to watch as her friend waved back to the children as the car turned onto the street.

5:17 p.m.

As Harrie busied herself with bringing in the bags from the car, Carol rifled through the pile of mail sitting on the kitchen counter. It appeared as though the housekeeper had been by at least a couple times to bring in the mail and check on things. There weren't any messes, everything was already tidy and neat. Almost too neat. Carol couldn't understand for the life of her how her sister managed to live in a such an orderly place. Then again, she supposed that having three grown boys, a husband who was hardly ever home, and both a housekeeper and groundskeeper kept all of that in line for her whether she was aware of it or not.

"Anything?" Harrie asked as she tossed her bag onto the counter and peered over Carol's shoulder.

Carol shook her head and kept looking. "Nothing in this pile. Did you check the mailbox?"

"Nothing there."

"Maybe tomorrow. Do you have to be anywhere this week?"

"Not until next week. Meeting back in Boston. Besides, I've got an ulterior motive in coming down here with you. Motives."

"Here we go… "

"There's a theater I want to check out… and I could use your help assessing the fixtures."

"You want to open another theater?" Harrie shrugged and walked over to the kitchen cabinet to get a glass. She removed one for herself, then wordlessly raised another in the air, asking if Carol wanted one. "No, thanks."

"Considering it."

"Why?"

"Washington finally desegregated and there is a potential property in just the right part of town."

Carol lifted a hand haphazardly into the air and smiled, walking to the same side of the counter as Harrie and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Never change."

Harrie blushed and pushed her glass toward Carol who gripped an unopened bottle of red wine. "Someday… "

"Other motive?"

A curious grin formed from the corners of Harrie's mouth as she looked back up at Carol. "Red Sox versus the Senators tomorrow and Thursday?"

Carol groaned, taking her bag from the counter and headed into her sister's room to freshen up before dinner and make a quick call to Therese and Rindy.

* * *

Wednesday, April 24th, 1957  
6:26 p.m.

After a day of driving into and around Washington, inspecting a most promising Art Deco movie theater, sitting through nine innings of baseball, and drinking two beers each, Carol and Harrie returned to Elaine's house to find the letter from Jack's school waiting for them in the mailbox at the end of the driveway. Harrie passed the envelope to Carol, who declined the offer to open it and read it, saying she didn't want to be angered by the (most likely) negative tone of the letter. As long as their prospective colleges weren't informed of the infraction, Carol couldn't be bothered.

"They're good kids and off to college in a few months. Big goddamn deal," Harrie said as she opened the letter, skimming it to make sure there wasn't going to be any follow-up necessary from Elaine or her husband. "It doesn't look like there were copies made, no carbon smudges. Essentially the same letter I got, different address."

Reaching for her purse, Carol rifled through, looking for her lighter. "Here."

Once Carol held the letter over the sink, Harrie eagerly took the lighter and flicked the spark wheel with her thumb. When it ignited, Carol dropped it into the dry metal sink and watched the small fire reduce the paper to black and grey ash.

"The things we do for them," Carol sighed. After another moment's pause, she looked over to the telephone to her right and walked over to the corner of the kitchen wall, taking a deep breath. "I should to call Therese and Rindy."

"Would you put Rindy on so I can say hello?" Harrie whispered. "Your sister is going to have a heart attack when she sees the phone bill."

Carol picked up the handset and patiently waiting as her fingers looped around the dial of the telephone, then whispered back. "She never sees it, I bet you."

"Hello?" said a small voice on the other end.

"Rindy, sweet pea, how are you?"

"Hi, Mommy! Miss you."

"Miss you too."

"Everything okay at home?"

"We're very well, thank you." Carol smiled at Rindy trying to sound grown up on the telephone, but she could tell, even through the phone, that Rindy was unable to hide her enthusiasm when talking to her mother. "Aunt Abby is running late and Therese is still at work."

"Oh." Carol wasn't alarmed; Rindy often stayed in the apartment by herself for snippets of time and usually for no longer than an hour. "Are you there by yourself, angel?"

"No," Rindy said and then paused before continuing. "Aunt Joanne is here and I sure am glad I finished my French homework because we already - "

"Aunt Joanne is there?" Carol repeated so Harrie could hear her. She looked up from her newspaper, quizzically glaring at Carol who waved her hand to usher Harrie to the phone. "Could you please put her on?"

Carol could hear Rindy put the handset on the table and scurry away to find her aunt. "She's not supposed to be back until Sunday," Harrie quickly said before Joanne picked up. Carol shook her head, noticing a worried expression form on her face.

"Okay, you can hang up!" Joanne shouted away from the mouthpiece. "Hey, Carol. Sorry about that yelling."

"Joanne, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm fine. Everything's fine. Just, you know, change of plans and all. Could I… could I stay here until you and Harrie get back? Or I can go to the theater and - "

"Stay. It's fine. Rindy and Therese would love to spend time with you. The letter arrived today, so we could head back tomorrow if - "

"I'd really like that, thank you."

"Do you want to talk to Harriet? She's right here."

"Would you?"

Passing the phone to Harrie, Carol stepped away to give her some privacy, wandering off and away to her sister's bedroom with her cigarette case and lighter. By the time she had pulled out her suitcase and lit a cigarette, Harrie was standing in the doorway, head tilted and observing Carol who looked out the window. When she turned around, Harrie looked back at her with a faint smile, somber and quiet.

"Her fellow passed away."

"What? When… how?"

"I dunno, she just said he died. He wrote her a note, put a hefty college tuition check in there for Teddy, and… it's been sitting at the hotel where they always meet up. Waiting for her. I don't know." Harrie tugged at her hair, pulling it away from the back of her neck and holding it on top of her head, nervously thinking about Joanne as well as where she could possibly find a hair elastic. She rushed into the bathroom, searching inside her dopp bag for something to tie her hair back. As soon as she found a hair tie, she tugged at her hair again and fixed it, then turned back to Carol. "Can we leave tomorrow?" she softly asked.

"Absolutely."

8:25 p.m.

Carol poured each of them another glass of wine and set the bottle down on Elaine's vanity table, careful that it didn't make a purplish ring on the white paint. Elaine wouldn't miss the bottle from the cellar, she thought. Not to mention, like the phone bill, she probably didn't really pay much attention to any of that in the first place. "Is that what has been bothering you, Harriet?"

Harrie nodded and slid down to stretch out flat on her back on Elaine's bed, covering her eyes with her arm. "I knew when we met she had this guy who she'd known since college. Younger fellow, as in, was a Freshman when she was a Senior kind of thing. They hit it off, however she didn't want to marry, his parents didn't approve of her being so educated, but… but they kept meeting up, every year, every April - excluding the war, of course - for about twenty, twenty-five years or so? She had other guys and girls well before him - and after, so it wasn't an exclusive sort of thing. Even when she married, Jo's husband never cared, and the fellow, I think, got married or had a girlfriend? I dunno. Not sure if she knew what was going on. I heard she was blonde like Jo. That's what Jo said at least. It wasn't really a big deal, so Jo slept with him a week a year?"

"It hurt you though, Harriet. You're more sensitive than you let on."

"She needed that one week to get away from me and Teddy - we all want time away. She just chose to do that with a man. I mean, she was upfront about it. And it was just… sex. Then there was that year with you… us? Back in 1950? I wanted to know how it felt to be in her position, being with someone from my past who I cared about. And honestly, it felt pretty fucking amazing; even if you couldn't… " As Carol began to laugh, Harrie sat up and wagged her finger at her. "I don't think you know how many times I debated calling my brother to ask what would be acceptable to do to you given your condition."

"Harrie… " Harrie reached for the wine glass beside her and drank the glass' entire contents in one go. Carol softly laughed to herself, knowing what a mess things would be later in the evening when she would start getting mouthy. "Was it just sex when we saw each other?"

"Yes… no… I have no idea," she shouted back. "And I kissed you first that time, so there! I wasn't comparing the two of you, you're completely different in bed, especially with the height thing and - "

"Like I don't know a thing or two about height difference."

"See?" Harrie exclaimed. "Therese is even shorter than Jo."

"She's a perfect little hot water bottle in the winter."

"Awww."

"Does it always come back to sex with you?"

"Yes, it's a science, and I'm a scientist."

"You are such a mess when you're stoned, scientist."

"This is exactly why I don't drink that often." Harrie sat up again to observe Carol's expression as she continued, "Jo's always said that her husband was Teddy's father, but… but, Teddy was born in January and all these trysts took place in April." Confused, Carol held out her hands and counted. Twice. Then immediately looked back to Harrie. "I think that's why she's so upset. I do feel badly for her though because, you know, he obviously meant something to her."

"You needn't feel badly for feeling that way. They were friends. Friends who… "

"Fucked."

Carol looked ahead with an expressionless glare as she tried not to smile or laugh at her friend's candid outburst. "You have been together for what?"

"Twelve years," Harrie answered with a smile.

" - twelve years. Lived together, raised Teddy together, been a couple. A loving, committed couple. Let's face it, if he was the father, without him, you wouldn't have had a child to raise together in the first place. Just like without Harge, Therese and I wouldn't have Rindy."

"You're right." Harrie sat up again and lightly knocked her head repeatedly against the headboard. "I'm gonna be forty next year," she somberly observed as she unbuttoned her shirt and kicked off her shoes. Carol poured each of them a final glass of wine and returned to the chaise lounge across from the bed. "The other day, I found two dark hairs on my chin - "

" - pluck 'em - "

" - and three grey hairs on top of my head - "

Carol chuckled.

" - and I think I need a stronger prescription for these." Harrie vaguely pointed to the glasses sitting on the nightstand next to her.

"Now you tell me after you drove the length of New Jersey?" When she looked up and saw Harrie persistently fiddling with the buttons, she laughed and stepped in. "Do you think you could keep your damn shirt buttoned at least until bedtime?"

"But it's hot," Harrie whined. "This house is a frickin' oven. And it is bedtime. And I'm falling apart."

Carol had almost forgotten how much Harrie couldn't handle the warm weather and the temperature in northern Virginia - despite it being the end of April - was too warm, too quickly for her. Watching her earlier as she had tied her hair up reminded Carol of one of their summers in Boston, when Harrie had gotten particularly cranky about the heat and Carol had to practically beg her to get into the bathtub to cool down. This occasion was nearly as bad as that time, and the temperature wasn't even that oppressive as the sun had set. Harrie untucked her blouse from her skirt and fanned herself with the hem. Carol could tell all she wanted to do was bellow out a string of whiny remarks, but Harrie resisted and fanned herself for a couple minutes.

Kicking off her heels and leaving them upright beside the chaise lounge where she sat, Carol teasingly remarked, "You do look good for thirty-… "

" -eight."

"Thirty-eight."

"Thanks, and piss off," laughed Harrie. "I'm getting old."

"You're not old."

" _Getting_ old. There's a difference."

"I think we should have a huge joint fortieth party for you and Abby at the house since your birthdays are both in October. The usual gang."

"Better put in the order for Abby's vodka now."

"When did you get to be such a lightweight?"

"When did you get to be such a professional?"

"Harriet. Watch it. You get so mouthy… "

"Sorry."

"And if you're that damn hot, take off your damn shirt."

"I have something on underneath. What did you think?"

"I know you, you ass. As soon as you enter a bedroom, you get fidgety with buttons and zippers. Like you have an aversion to being dressed in a bedroom," she teased as she held up her left hand to emphasize the ring on her finger, "I'm married, behave."

As she lowered her hand, Carol paused and blushed, vaguely realizing what she had just said. She thought it was the wine that brought on the blush, or perhaps the humid warmth of the room, but she quickly understood it was from her words. Smiling at Harrie, Carol quickly looked away and brushed the hair from her eyes.

Harrie's eyes caught the glimmer of Carol's ring as her fingers raked through her hair and she gestured to it. "Your ring. It's really nice." Carol looked down at her left hand, then raised it back to her eye level to admire the glisten of the rose gold in the light.

"Thank you."

"I've been meaning to tell you that for a while now. Is it engraved?"

Carol grinned, removing the ring from her finger and standing to show Harrie. She held it to the light, twirling it around to read the inscription. Lowering the band, Harrie couldn't help but smile as she then scooted herself to the edge of the bed to pass it back to Carol who immediately put the ring back where it belonged. "Therese loves you... so much. So so much."

"She does."

"So much. And you love her."

"I do."

"She wears that necklace you got her all the time. I never see her without it."

"I do," Carol saucily muttered with a wag of her eyebrow as she finished her glass of wine. She looked over at Harrie who stared back with a cheeky grin. "I may get her a ring in a few years. Maybe."

"You should. I think she'd really like that. I'm not good with jewelry; I'm gonna need you to help me because I should get one for JoJo. I should get her something. Especially now that… what's-his-name is out of the picture."

"What was his name? Do you know?"

"It was a weird name. Like Boss or Voss or Foss or Gloss. I don't know, something -oss."

Carol made a face and took another sip from her wine glass. "It couldn't possibly be worse than Hargess."

"Valid point. One time, when we were arguing about the annual visit, I think I asked her how she could possibly yell out a name like that in the throes of passion. I slept up on the fourth floor for a week and it was completely worth it!" Harrie proudly explained, shutting her eyes and scrunching up her face to smile. "I didn't miss anything: she had her period anyway."

"Honestly, Harriet, you get yourself into so much trouble with that mouth of yours."

"You know, I got you - well, I didn't get it… buy it - really, it belonged to - "

"Okay, shower time for you. You're drunk, you're overheating, and you're getting extra messy here. A nice, cold shower and then off to bed with you so we can get an early start in the morning," Carol interjected, cutting off whatever Harrie had been trying to say. Harrie looked up at her from the floor, holding out her arms so Carol could help her up. "You're impossible."

Carol nudged her toward the bathroom as she followed behind to make sure she actually got in the shower. As Harrie walked in, passing Elaine's vanity table, she took a step backward and knocked into Carol who caught her. Regaining her balance, she stood up straight and pointed directly at the glass perfume bottle on the table. "That the one your sister wears all the time?" Squinting at the table, Carol saw it was and nodded. Harrie picked up the bottle and walked straight toward the toilet.

"What the hell are you doing?" Carol asked, slightly panicked as to why Harrie was holding the bottle in one hand and lifting the toilet lid.

Harrie looked over her shoulder, devilishly grinning as she removed the perfume bottle stopper and poured the contents into the toilet. "A little something for my favorite niece."

* * *

Thursday, April 25th, 1957  
8:45 a.m.

"You know," Carol began as she pulled out of the driveway to Elaine's house, "the boys' graduation and my college reunion overlap. Well, one is Friday and the other's Saturday."

"Are you gonna go to both?"

"No," Carol replied with a shake of her head. "I don't have the patience for both."

Harrie tossed her glasses into the glovebox and replaced them with her sunglasses as still was reeling the effects of the night before. "I'll go with you if you'd like."

"That's sweet, Harriet, but I would rather have the weekend be about the boys and not splintering off to go elsewhere. Bad enough Jack's father can't stay Friday night. And what fun it will be to see Elaine flip her top when she sees you there."

Harrie rolled down her window halfway to let in a breeze, then turned back to Carol and wagged her eyebrows. "Very true. And she'll be so outnumbered."

"I've been thinking about it all week - the reunion and all - ever since I got this fifteen-year questionnaire in the mail."

"Eh, that old thing. Wanting to know if you're the happy little homemaker and if your husband is a country club member or if your four children are on the honor roll?"

"No, this was… different."

"Oh?" Pressing her back to the car door, Harrie leaned against it and thought for a moment. She tilted her head right to look out the window at the flat, vacant road ahead of them, watching as the trees passed them by. She outstretched her legs, positioning them to rest in Carol's lap and crossing her ankles.

Carol looked away from the road for a moment and pointed down at Harrie's feet. "Do you mind?"

"Do you?"

"You ass." Carol tickled the bottom of Harrie's left foot, but she didn't move it, only squirmed a bit until Carol trapped her foot and kept it still. "Anyway, there were questions about… if marriage was 'satisfying.' Infidelity. Deepest feelings. Conformity. Life's frustrations."

"Well… " Harrie said, sitting up a bit straighter as she leaned against the door, "that certainly is most peculiar."

"Made me think."

"Did you respond?"

"Not yet."

"How are you gonna answer?"

"I don't know. I have until May 1st to send back." Carol slouched in her seat and rested her left elbow slightly out her window so her left hand could just barely steer the wheel.

"It's just… going to that reunion would be just one more thing that I would end up doing where I have to hide part of who I am, which I something I told myself and Therese I would not do again. The boys' graduation is one thing - that's about the two of them - but the reunion? That's about me and people asking me all the sordid little details of my life. It would be nothing but lies."

"Sounds like you have your answer."

"I suppose I do," she sighed. "Besides, all those women would probably be lying through their teeth about how content they are - or think they are. I don't want that."

"All those MRS degrees?" Harrie laughed. "Be proud of yourself, Carol. You've - you are - raising a child, working, using your education, doing something. You have a spouse, or partner, or whatever it is you want to call Therese, and you're on perfectly equal footing. That's what's always been important to you."

"What if I gave all that up though, to be home with Rindy? Isn't that… contradictory?"

"It sounds like it would be," Harrie stated, "but I think you have some extenuating circumstances. You missed out on three years of seeing your daughter - your little girl - every single day, during her most formative years. You can't turn back the clock, you know that. You can make the most of the time you two do have though."

"I just don't want it to be unfair to Therese. Even though she's alright with it, she works so hard. I'd be afraid of some kind of underlying resentment."

"Carol, I'm pretty sure Therese understands your thoughts and feelings on this far better than me. I'm just an observer here - "

"You are not."

" - but she wouldn't resent you at all."

"Especially if I opened my own shop and did something to keep busy."

Harrie nodded her head, then glanced back over to Carol who intently focused on the road. "So where do you wanna have said shop?"

"Oh, I don't know. Somewhere on Fourth. Madison maybe. Close enough to be in walking distance of the apartment. Close to an appropriate subway line heaven forbid the weather not be cooperative."

"How about Greenwich?"

"No, no. Maybe. No… it's not the time for us to be there year round. Someday. Speaking of which, now that we're coming back today, plans are still on to go open the house tomorrow." Carol nudged Harrie's hand which rested on the seat. "Would you like to go up with us?"

"I'd love to, but I think Jo… "

"Oh, sorry."

"No, no, you're fine. We should head home tonight or tomorrow."

"Did you like the movie theater?"

Harrie got quiet and shrugged, then shook her head no and shifted around uncomfortably in her seat. "No. I mean, yes, I liked the theater, but no, I don't want to open one here."

"Why not? I thought you were all for it?"

Harrie smiled. "Being down here in this picturesque, racist hellhole has given me ideas on far better causes to put that money towards."

* * *

Saturday, June 8th, 1957  
9:46 a.m.

It's far too early…

Carol stumbled down the hall, toward the kitchen to check on the status of breakfast. It was already so late, she noted, how in the world was it almost ten?

Guests would probably be coming downstairs and most likely hungry, not to mention extremely hungover in the case of Abby and Jamie. Except for Rindy and Elaine who went to bed at ten, everyone else stayed up into the night, dancing, listening to music, late-night swimming, and talking. The morning after graduation was proving to be a noticeable effort in getting everyone up and moving. Not like they were going anywhere that day, but with Rindy, and even the two boys, Carol still needed to keep to a schedule.

"Only checking in," Carol offered as she peeked into the kitchen, noticing Therese cutting up some pineapple, strawberries, and blueberries, and Harrie ladling batter onto the griddle, occasionally stealing a blueberry or two to put into a ladled out pancake. Rindy was sitting on the counter swinging her legs, safely a foot away from the stove top, and happily chatting away with Harrie and Therese. "There you are. Where's the housekeeper?"

Therese raised her head, placing the knife on the side of the cutting board as she stopped slicing up strawberries. "I told her to take the rest of the day." Therese turned her head and smiled at Harrie. "We got this."

Walking over to the counter where Therese stood slicing fruit, Carol stopped and touched her shoulders. Therese tilted her head so she could kiss Carol's right hand that rested on her shoulder. "You don't have to do that - "

"I like being useful," Therese answered, unfazed by the hands on her shoulder that were starting to drift down her back to settle around her hips and wrap around her middle. "And I'm having fun chatting with Harrie."

"You are useful, sweetness."

"I hope you don't mind, Carol," Harrie said, "but we don't have to have the housekeeper to look in on all of us. It'll give everyone a whole lot more privacy and besides, it's fun. Teddy's got tea covered later, Therese and I got dinner. Sid and Jamie mix drinks like the eccentric English butlers they are. Really, it's no problem."

"Yes, but cooking for all of us?"

"It's nothing compared to cooking for two adolescent boys and this growing little one here. Multiply a little more here and there." Rindy giggled the second Harrie poked her stomach with the non-greasy end of a spatula. "Gather the troops. It'll be about ten minutes."

"Alright. And if you and Jo could each get in half an hour with Rindy today… "

"What are you talking about? We're doing a chemistry lesson right now." Harrie studied the pancake on the griddle, then took a tiny handful of flour and spread it on the countertop. Using the wooden end of the spatula, she wrote two short formulas in the flour, then turned back to the pancakes where she noted the golden edges and bubbles forming, pointing to them with the utensil. "You see these bubbles?" Rindy looked at the pancakes and nodded. "They are caused by the dry bicarbonate - a base - and the wet buttermilk - an acid - interacting… "

Carol smiled, watching her daughter listen to Harrie talk about the chemical properties of pancakes and Therese listening in as she cut up the fruit. She made her way down the hallway, peeking into the parlor, where Abby and Joanne were both seated across from one another in the two oversized armchairs by the window, one of which used to be her grandfather's favorite spot to smoke a cigar or his pipe and read. Jo was dressed and ready to go for the day, while Abby sat back, wearing just her bathrobe and letting one of her crossed bare legs stick out from the terrycloth. The two of them were engaged in some conversation, with Joanne holding a book in her hand and frantically pointing to something.

"Argh, don't you see? Reading in translation should only be done when absolutely necessary, especially if you have the knowhow. This - " she waved the book in the air, " - sadly is a monstrosity of a translation effort. It's an insult to everything this book is about."

"I took German," Abby sighed, "and Latin."

Joanne rolled her head and smacked Abby in the knee. "Useless," she joked. She sat back in the armchair, crossing her legs to mirror Abby's position. Abby laughed and passed her cigarette to Jo who, before smoking it, looked around the room with one eyebrow arched, and then placed it between her lips. "I really shouldn't, but thanks."

Carol took the opportunity of the lull in conversation to pipe up. "Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes."

"Don't yell! Some of us are still… recovering," Abby mumbled.

"Jesus Christ, I wasn't yelling."

Abby incoherently mumbled something in reply that Carol didn't get. "Carol, have you read this?" Jo asked then handed the cigarette to Carol before holding up a translated copy of _The Second Sex_.

Taking a puff of the cigarette, Carol coughed then nodded her head. "I read it," she replied, " _and_ in French. But that's only because I was over there at the time."

Jo stared back at Abby without saying a word, her eyebrow still arched conveying her point. Abby shut her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. "You're both what they call 'nerds.'"

Carol rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I love you too, Abby." After taking a second drag of the cigarette she passed it back to Jo, then reached over the two of them to open a window. "Have either of you seen the boys?"

"Which ones?" Jo asked.

"Either ones."

Abby nodded her head and gestured with her cigarette toward the side door. "Jack and Teddy are doing laps. Jamie and Sid are… "

"I think they went out to get some newspapers," Jo finished. "You want me to get our boys?"

"No, I'll go get them, Joanne, thanks."

Carol left the room, heading to the back door, in the direction of the swimming pool and pavilion. Even though the sun was out and the day had the start of being on the warmer side, it wasn't warm enough to be sitting by the pool in summer attire, let alone be swimming so early in the morning. Nonetheless, the two boys were in the water, with Teddy standing in the shallow end and watching Jack endlessly swim butterfly strokes up and down the length of the pool, trying to keep count of the laps. Despite the cool air, Carol sat down at the edge of the pool, pulling up the hem of the capris to let her legs dangle in water. At first it was too cold, but after fifteen seconds, her legs acclimated to the water then managed to feel almost warm. As Jack passed by one more time, Teddy waited for him to swim by and then moved to the edge of the pool where Carol sat watching them.

"How long have you boys been in the pool?" Teddy lifted his hands out of the water to inspect his fingertips. Shaking his head from side to side, he estimated about forty-five minutes. "Aren't you chilly?"

"It's not _that_ cold!" Teddy placed both of his arms against the top of the ledge, crossing them so he could rest his chin there. "Are you sure you don't want to get in?" he teased as he raised his swim goggles to rest atop his head.

Carol let her legs sway back and forth in the water. "Maybe later if it warms up and I can get Therese to join me," she winked. "Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes."

"Why didn't you get us earlier, Aunt Carol? We could have helped."

"You're a sweetheart, but no, this is your weekend. And I hear you've already claimed tea this afternoon."

"I feel like baking… and mum's in the mood for those chocolate cookies. You know." Teddy smiled back at her and pointed forward to the lounge chair two feet away. "If you're looking for a towel, go right ahead and use mine."

Carol turned, noticing the nearby towel, and got up to dry her legs off. "Thanks, Teddy." She looked back at Jack in the water, still swimming his laps, and pointed toward him. "Both of you wash up and dress before coming in, alright? No need for fancy dress, just presentable. Don't have to give Elaine heart palpitations with you both in those swim trunks."

"Okay. I'll get this one and we'll be in."

* * *

The moment Carol looked at the clock on entryway table, it struck ten. She rested against the doorframe to the music room, arms crossed, and watched Sid and Jamie as they shuffled into the house.

"We got newspapers for everyone," Sid proudly said, holding up a copy of the _Times_. "Hope it's alright that we borrowed the car."

Carol grabbed the stack of papers and looked the two men up and down. Jamie noticed her observing the two of them and reached over to straighten Sid's disheveled tie. "You are such a slob," he muttered and smiled back at his partner.

"Of course it's fine. As long as you drive on the correct side of the road."

"Ninety percent of the time I do now!"

Smiling, Carol shook her head and walked back to the kitchen with the newspapers. "I will never forget that terrifying ride from Boston to Northampton along Route 9."

"Come on, that was fun!" Jamie shouted after her.

* * *

"How are you doing in here?"

"I just gotta drain this bacon and flip a couple more pancakes."

Therese noticed the stack of newspapers in Carol's arms, leaning over to catch a glimpse of the first one on the stack. "Better be nothing but the _Times_ ," she teased. Therese turned around and finished dishing the sliced fruit into a large glass bowl.

As soon as her back was turned, Carol immediately looked at the stack of papers and thumbed through the pile, noticing one copy of the _Herald Tribune_ among them. She put down the stack of papers and swiftly pulled out the copy of the _Tribune_ , placing it on the vacant side of the stove where Harrie stood flipping over slices of bacon in the frying pan. When Carol nudged her, Harrie made a disapproving sound when she saw the paper and flattened it out on the counter, then loaded it up with bacon strips to drain. "Yup, just the _Times_ here," Harrie said before turning to Rindy to again go through what she had taught her about the science of pancake making. "Now, what causes these to bubble?"

"Carbon dioxide!"

"Why?"

"Because… because a base interacts with an acid."

"And what's the formula for carbon dioxide?" Harrie asked Rindy as she flipped over each pancake.

Rindy peeked at the writing in the dusting of flour Harrie had put down earlier. "CO2?"

"You got it!" Harrie moved to stand in front of Rindy, putting a hand on her hip and wiping her hair from her brow. "Now, how about you go with your mother into the dining room?" She helped Rindy get down and passed her the copy of _Little Women_ she had been reading and left on the counter.

"Could we please read another chapter together later?" she asked.

"Of course, Rin."

"And can you read it like you did yesterday?"

"You mean how I normally read?"

"Not at the table!" Carol tirelessly requested.

"You do the accents right. You say ' _Mahmee_ ' and not 'Mar-mee' like Mommy does," Rindy offered then leaned toward her to whisper. "And I don't like how Jo ends up with that boy."

"That doesn't necessarily have to be the ending," Harrie winked, "we'll just have to ignore that bit," Harrie chuckled then turned to Carol and walked over to physically push her in the direction of the dining room where Rindy had already run off to. "Go sit down, Carol, have some coffee - I already brought some in. Relax. We'll be right there." Carol tilted her head and impatiently waited. "Go, go, go!"

Before Carol could feign protesting anymore, she moved into the dining room, where she saw Elaine quietly sitting at the table sipping a coffee, awaiting everyone's arrival. "Morning, Carol."

"Good morning, Elaine," Carol said as she walked over to her sister and kissed her on the cheek before taking her spot at the head of the table. As she pulled out her chair, Carol paused and gave Rindy a quick kiss on top of her head, prying the copy of _Little Women_ from her hands. Despite repeatedly telling Rindy no, Carol knew better and how as soon as all the adults were engaged in conversation, she'd be right back reading her book if she had the chance. "You sleep alright?"

Carol knew what she was asking, knowing that she had to put her sister in one of the least comfortable rooms of the house since, aside from Abby, she was the only one not doubled up in a bed somewhere since her husband could only make the graduation ceremony then head back towards Virginia.

"Very well, thanks."

"Have you seen the boys?"

"Jack and Teddy were doing laps in the pool last I saw. They'll be in soon."

"I got pancakes!" Harrie shouted as she walked into the dining room with two oversized platters of pancakes and bacon to place at each end of the table. "Good morning, everybody."

Therese followed behind, carrying the large bowl of fruit and the stack of newspapers under her arm. "Newspaper, Elaine?" she offered.

"Yes, thank you, Therese."

Carol smiled at Therese, pleased how her sister had finally managed to get her name right and be courteous in one go.

"You can read a newspaper, but I can't read my book?" Rindy grumpily asked.

Harrie took note of the placement of the book by Carol's side, out of Rindy's reach, and laughed. She slid the book back across to Rindy who caught it before it fell off the table. "Have at it." Harrie then reached over to Therese's side and took a newspaper from the stack.

Jo shook her head in disbelief, nodding at Carol and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as she walked by. "Morning again, Carol."

"Good morning, Joanne. Help yourselves. There's fruit, pancakes, bacon… and… where'd these come from?" She pointed to the box of doughnuts on the table, a box that someone had already opened and taken a couple out. No one in the dining room answered, but Carol was fairly certain she could see a smattering of powdered sugar in the corner of Rindy's mouth. She had only been out of Carol's sight for a minute at most, and she couldn't imagine how Rindy could have demolished one in so little time. "Apparently doughnuts as well because _someone_ here has an unrelenting sweet tooth."

"Me?" offered Rindy as she looked up from her book.

"Me?" asked Harrie as she leaned in to give Carol a kiss, completely on purpose just to annoy Elaine. "Good morning, gorgeous."

"Both of you. Good morning, Harriet."

Still standing with the fruit bowl in her hands, Therese looked to Carol, wordlessly asking where to place it at the table. Carol pointed to a spot toward the middle, but before Therese had put the bowl down, asked her to wait and took it from her. She walked to the opposite end where Harrie and Joanne sat, and stood between their two chairs, silently dishing out an ample helping of pineapples and strawberries onto Joanne's plate, then walked away with the bowl.

"Hey! What gives?" Harrie shouted from the head of the other end of the table, puzzled as to why Carol didn't offer her any.

Carol winked at her and smirked, "You'll thank me later."

Before Harrie could respond, she paused and leaned into Joanne, smelling her sweater by the shoulder. "Cigarette?" she laughed, then kissed her on the cheek as both Jack and Teddy entered the room, their hair wet from the shower and slicked back so neatly individual toothcomb lines were easily recognizable.

"Good morning, Aunt Carol! Aunt Therese!" Jack cheerfully said and gave his aunts a kiss before moving over to his mother. "Morning, mom."

Teddy straightened his shirt collar and smoothed down his still wet hair. "Hi, Aunt Therese, Aunt Carol," he said right before giving them a kiss, then walked to his mother and kissed her on both cheeks. " _Bonjour, maman_."

" _Bonjour, mon nounours_."

"Morning, mum." Teddy stood behind Harrie and draped his arms over her shoulder.

"Hi, sweetheart," she muttered, gripping his hand as she looked through the newspaper for the crossword puzzle. She raised the hand to her nose, distracted by the chlorine odor. "You smell like a pool."

Teddy pulled his hand away and smoothed back his hair again. "We'll wash later, after the beach."

" _T'as - vous avez - bien dormi_?"

" _Oui, maman_." Teddy smiled at Jack, sitting down next to him and picking up his napkin.

"JoJo, pass me the sugar, please."

"She said _vous_ \- she's asking about both of us," Jack said as he passed a plate of pancakes and bacon to him.

"Ha! I'm amazed you two are awake and had energy to swim this morning," Harrie joked. "Milk too please - I'm amazed any of us are awake - Jack, I think you're closest."

Therese saw Jamie reach for the coffeepot and pour, however nothing came out. "I'll go get some more, Jamie," she said and sped off to the kitchen to get the other pot.

"The real question we should be asking is: is there anymore vodka?" Everyone turned to watch Abby walk into the dining room wearing nothing more than the bathrobe she had been in earlier when Carol had seen her talking to Jo, but she was now holding a glass of tomato juice. Clearly Abby didn't see the necessity to change, and Carol reasoned she was most likely doing it to grate on Elaine's nerves. "This needs vodka."

"Hey, Rin?" Rindy looked up from her book at Teddy who was cutting into his pancakes. " _Tu viens à la plage avec nous? Après..._ "

Rindy nodded, then turned to her mother. "Mommy, may I go to the beach with Jack and Teddy after breakfast?"

"Certainly," Carol replied, "but you should be back by two so the boys can make tea. You can help them, alright?"

"Are you talking about us?" asked Sid, who strolled into the dining room.

"No," Harrie answered. "Jack and Teddy."

"We need another nickname for you two because it's too damn confusing," Abby explained, opening the cabinet behind Carol to look a bottle of half-filled anything she could possibly get her hands on. "Found it," she whispered to herself, pulling out a bottle of half-filled bottle of vodka.

"What in the hell is it with all you people?"

Everyone paused, silently looking over at Elaine.

"What?" asked Carol.

"You're all happy, and sweet to each other, and loving, and… "

"Kind?" Jack offered.

"A family?" Harrie suggested.

"Hungover?"

Everyone turned to look at Abby.

"Those three are speaking French like it's no big deal," Elaine said pointing to Teddy and Jo chatting with one another, "those two are both… mom? I think…" now pointing at Harrie and Jo. "My sister's also… you're all… dykes - "

"What's a - "

Jamie quickly covered Rindy's mouth with his hand to prevent her from speaking and tried not to laugh, despite the snarly manner in which Elaine spoke.

None of the others at the table were shunning away as Jack's mother kept rambling on. They were surprised, but undeterred; they had undoubtedly heard it all before. As Jack sat there and looked over to his aunt and then to Harrie who had traveled all the way down to Virginia just to steal an incriminating letter to help him out, he saw that no one at the table took her seriously, no one angrily fought back or shouted despite the fact they were clearly offended. He was eighteen, he was out of school, he was old enough to make his own decisions. Jack, who in a split second looked at his mother and suddenly stopped caring what she thought, poked Teddy with his elbow and took his hand in his, placing it on the tabletop for her to see. Grinning and nodding, Jack looked at his mother without a care of any recourse as she continued her tirade, turning away from her son, too stunned to say a word.

Jamie removed his hand and placed it around Rindy's shoulder as Elaine pointed around the room. "You're - all - homosexuals. And… Abby's still wasted - "

"Yup," Abby smugly mused, raising her glass to toast Elaine. "Still goin' here."

"What's going on?" whispered Therese as she entered the dining room with a freshly filled pot of coffee.

"Elaine's finally piecing everything together and managing to offend everyone at the table," Carol grinned, unable to avert her eyes from her sister's as she watched Elaine figure it all out. "Pull up a chair."

"You - " Elaine pointed over at Harrie, " - you - you - you - and Carol used to go together. All the while… back when… in college? How did I… how'd I not see that?"

"Geez, even your grandfather saw it, Elaine," Harrie exasperatedly confirmed and unfazed by her outburst, "and he had atrocious cataracts. I thought you knew?"

Abby raised her hand. "Carol and I used to go together too. Got a tongue that'd never quit."

Rindy looked up from her book after having been too absorbed in her reading to listen to the grown-ups at the table, but perked up when her aunt began to speak. "Abby!" Therese shouted. "Rindy is right there."

Not understanding much of anything the adults were speaking of, Rindy sat laughing and had to cover her mouth. "Mommy used to go out with Aunt Abby _and_ Aunt Harrie?"

"That was a very long time ago, Rindy. Before you were even born," Therese explained. After hearing the brief explanation and nothing further, Rindy returned to the book she had leaned against the side of the table, completely bored by the conversation between all the adults surrounding her.

"What? It's not a falsity," Abby continued explaining. Carol blushed and hid her face, laughing to herself.

"I'll say," came a voice from the opposite end of the table.

"Mum!" Teddy exclaimed, then turned to look at Jack next to him snickering and nodded his head. "Same goes for you."

"You really weren't exaggerating about that then?" Jo quietly asked Harrie, who responded only with a nod and a smile.

Carol raised her voice in a pleasant manner, all the while laughing along with everyone else. "Alright, alright. Can we please stop talking about - "

"And you," Elaine gestured to Therese. "I suppose you're another of these Miss Porter's or Smith or Bryn Mawr girls that my sister picked up somewhere?"

Therese shook her head, trying her best not to smirk. "No, I went to St. Margaret's, down the road from where you lived in Montclair," she responded.

The room was quiet for all of ten seconds until Harrie dropped her pencil on her plate into her pancakes. "Oh, fuck me."

"Harriet!" Joanne exclaimed, unaffected and unaware of the context as she drifted between the newspaper and eating. " _After_ breakfast, babe," she softly added.

"You!" Harrie pointed to the other end of the table where Therese sat, repeatedly wagging her index finger. "Therese! You! You're the little girl who pushed a boy for trying to kiss you!"

Therese covered her hands over her mouth in disbelief and pointed back at Harrie, trying not to nervously laugh. "You're the one who told me it's okay to kiss girls!"

"What?" Carol asked, looking at Therese and then back at the other end of the table to Harrie. "When was this?"

"That day. When we were cleaning out the house. You sent me to drop those things off... and that letter… and… Harge… I met Therese at St. Margaret's."

"I was, what, eight or nine? I got in trouble for getting into a scuffle with a boy and Harrie looked after me. I scraped my knee - "

"This is unbelievable," laughed Harrie.

"You did?" Joanne asked, warmly looking at Harrie who nodded back. "Awww, you are - oh, if you're not the kindest, most loving, sweetest person in the entire world. Come here… " She leaned over and gently kissed her on the lips, not caring that Elaine was seated nearby and recoiling at the sight of them being even a little bit affectionate with one another.

As soon as they stopped, Harrie then looked back over at Therese and pointed at her again, still beaming from the attention Joanne had given her, "She did make fun of the way I talk though."

" _Minette_ , everyone makes fun of the way you talk," Carol observed.

"Wait, wait, wait… so Therese is… younger than Carol? She's younger than you?" asked Elaine.

"Uh huh," Carol mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee. "Thirteen years younger, if you really must know, Elaine."

"Therese is only five years older than us?" asked Jack who turned to look at his aunt. "You're only five years older?"

"Goddamn cradle robber."

"Abby!" Harrie shouted.

"Does that really matter, Jack?" Therese asked.

"No! I - we - never would have guessed."

"You still call her _minette_?" Jo sardonically inquired.

"She still calls me 'gorgeous'!"

"Does that bother you any?" Abby asked Therese.

"Not at all. I've just grown to accept that those two have their own vocabulary just like Carol and I do. Besides, Harriet always calls me 'dimples.'"

"And you two… " Elaine interrupted, "I know you from somewhere."

"That's absurd," Sid replied.

"No, we've met before. I'm certain of it. I've been thinking about it since yesterday." Jamie looked at Sid, who shook his head, equally confounded. "Do you live in Boston?"

"On occasion."

"What is it you do then?"

"I work at an auction house," Jamie replied.

"And you?"

"I'm a gynecologist."

"A homosexual gynecologist?"

Harrie and Therese laughed, looking across the table at one another and sharing a smile.

"When you put it that way… " Sid nonchalantly pointed out. "I'll consider having that printed on my next batch of business cards."

"But if you're… I thought you were married to… " Elaine pointed over at Joanne who was pouring herself another cup of coffee.

"We are married, Elaine."

"So... he's not Ted's father?"

"On paper, yes, ma'am," Teddy answered. "My father died in the war. But really, Uncle Sid is my uncle because I have two mothers. Uncle Sid and Uncle Jamie have been together since… uh… where was it?"

"Harrow," Carol added from the other end of the table.

"That the one with the little hats?" Abby asked.

Sid groaned. "Yes, the little fucking hats."

"You looked like such tossers," Harrie joked.

Sid facetiously tossed his napkin onto the table and sniffled a few times. "I'm appalled. Absolutely appalled that you'd think I'd… _sleep_ with a woman!" he professed in the most mocking of voices, pretending to be painfully hurt by her statement and scrunching up his nose at the thought.

"Say," Harrie said as she put down the newspaper and stood up to console her brother, "how dare you think my older brother sleeps with women. _My_ woman!"

"If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm very picky about the men I have slept with, Elaine, and simply put… no," Jo added with a shake of her head then speared two pieces of pineapple into her fork. "No offence, Sid. Although I do love you."

"None taken, darling… and I love you too."

Teddy, however, could no longer hide his embarrassment and slunk down in his seat as Harrie returned to her chair, kissing him on the head before sitting back down and picking up the newspaper once more. Elaine looked too confused to ask for any elaboration on the matter, silently piecing everything together in her mind as everyone else sat eating their breakfast and drinking their coffees.

"Let me understand this: you two are married for… "

"For Teddy," Harrie answered without looking up from her paper.

"They had the best wedding night too," James gleefully confirmed. "I should know. I was there."

"Me too," Harrie chimed in before glancing up from her crossword puzzle and loudly asking the table, "Black Forest Germany state.' Five letters - Württemberg."

"Baden," Therese shouted back.

Harrie raised her pencil in the air and smiled back at Therese. "Thanks, dimples."

"Oooh, Black Forest Cake sounds good," Abby sighed.

Joanne looked up from her sliced fruit and stared back at Abby. "You just want the Kirsch."

"Yeah, that's it."

Harrie stopped writing, pouting for a moment and looking to Joanne. "Now I want cake too, JoJo."

"Why don't you and Teddy make one after breakfast then, babe?"

"Carol had the best wedding night, if I remember her telling me correctly," Therese jokingly continued. "Nothing but drinking with Harge and playing Monopoly until four in the morning."

"That kind of sounds like fun," Jack said. "We should try that," he suggested with a nudge to Teddy.

"What happened after four in the morning?" asked Abby. Carol smacked the side of Abby's arm with the back of her hand. "Ow, watch it!"

"Say, where'd you find that tie?" Sid questioned Jack. "That looks similar to one I had."

Jack picked up the tail of the short tie, one far too small for him to be wearing, but he loved it and had had it since he was little. "I've had it as long as I can remember. Aunt Carol always resized it for me to wear to school all the time. Think I found it here?"

"That really looks like my tie. Why would that be here?"

Shrugging and picking up his fork again, Jack continued to eat his breakfast as both Teddy and Jo talked amongst themselves, making suggestions for the afternoon and evening meals.

"You people are all over the damn place!" Elaine exclaimed. "And now I know where I know you from!" She pointed back at Sid. "I went to see you in 1948 for a… specialist's opinion."

"My God, I've seen both the Ross sisters in the all-together," Sid muttered.

"Of all the others at this table, really?" Abby shook her head.

"Same here," added James. "And to be perfectly fair, they are both lovely."

"Huh, and here I thought I was the only one who's seen both of them like that when pregnant," Abby very quietly commented before finishing her Bloody Mary.

Harrie avoided any eye contact with the others at the table and and walked over near Therese to finally help herself to a scoop of the fruit salad as everyone was too distracted over Elaine and Sid's conversation. Carol also stood and helped herself to another pancake, standing close to Harrie. "So where… where did the tie come from?" Carol asked in a whisper.

"It's my brother's," Harrie answered, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening to them, "We used it as a blindfold because it was the only dark item we had. It must have fallen behind that bed."

Carol thought for a moment, wondering how Jack could have possibly gotten his hands on it. Then she remembered how when he was little, Jack would crawl underneath the bed - no matter if it was his own house or his great-grandparents - to read his books and hide from his brothers. "I know. And I know how he got it."

"Okay, carry on then," murmured Harrie. "Did you know about Elaine?" Carol nodded no in reply as they returned to their respective seats. "Or Abby?" Harrie then mouthed across the table to her. Carol shook her head, unable to make out the words she had silently tried to relay across the table, and waved her hand to dismiss what Harrie had been trying to say.

Everyone at the table was quiet. Too quiet as everyone continued eating together in silence until Elaine finished and swatted her napkin on the table beside her plate. "As soon as we're done with breakfast, Jack, pack your things. We're going."

Carol and Therese looked at each other, then glanced over at Harrie and Jo at the other end of the table, shaking their heads.

"But, we were going to stay through Monday."

"We are leaving." Jack opened his mouth to speak then immediately stopped himself, looking back at his aunts then to Harrie and Joanne.

Calmly tucking her hair behind her ear, Carol smiled back at her sister and kindly offered, "He can stay, Elaine. Really, it's no - "

"Do I want my son to stay here with all of you degenerates? Communists? Homosexuals?"

"Please, please. 'Democratic socialist' is more preferred," Sid calmly rebutted. Taking a deep breath and hiding her face, Carol sighed and then snorted when she replayed Sid's words in her mind.

"Yesterday was one thing at graduation and you were all on your best behavior, blending in with all the normal people, but together? Without anyone else around? You're too much. I can't… Is this what my son has been exposed to all these years?"

Teddy looked around the table, noticing that the conversion was getting heated and could only get worse based on all the stories Jack had recounted over the years about his mother the moment she got riled up about something, whether it was the housekeeper's wages or an out-of-place doily on the dining room buffet. He glanced back across the table to Rindy who was starting to wane in her attention to her book with everything happening around them. Whereas he would normally speak in French to her when they were sitting around as a family, Teddy pointedly asked her in English if she'd come upstairs with him to get their belongings together to the beach. As soon as Teddy and Rindy left the dining room, Jack finally spoke up and very calmly told his mother that he wanted to stay.

"You're coming home so we can deal with this and fix this - fix you - once and for all."

"I don't need fixing and I'm staying - "

"No, you're coming home and - you know what? Fine. You can stay here with these lowlifes, and forget about going to college, and… and be loafers like these people."

"They're not loafers. They're the smartest people I know." Jack brushed the hair across his brow back, trying hard to not look deterred by what his mother had said.

"And don't you worry about college for even a second, sweetheart," Harrie announced while looking straight at Elaine. "Right, Joanne?"

Jo nodded her head and reached across the seat where Teddy had been sitting to take his hand. "Nothing to worry about, Jack."

"Alright. Forget it. Everything. Don't come home. You're such a disappointment, Jack. I expected so much more from you."

Therese motioned to stand up, but Carol tugged the sleeve of her shirt, wordlessly asking her to stay seated. "You shouldn't be disappointed in Jack. He is a good person and is who he is because of everyone here," Therese sternly pointed out, then gestured upstairs, "and Teddy. All of the kind, loving people here, I should say. Which is everyone except you."

"It's one thing for my little sister to be... and you," Elaine sneered as she raised her hand toward Therese, "and you two…" then motioned to Harrie and Jo who were doing their best to hold their tongues, "but you, Jack? I raised you better."

"You didn't raise me," Jack angrily protested. "When I was a baby, it was always Aunt Carol and Harrie who took care of me, looked after me. Took me to museums… read to me - taught me to read. Aunt Therese, she got me a camera and taught me how to use it. Harrie taught me to swim… I was three years old. Every day, during the summer. Aunt Carol was my age - she was eighteen - when she seriously started looking after me and has always been kind, generous, and supportive… and would do anything for me. And I'm not the disappointment. You're the disappointment as a parent because Aunt Carol, Aunt Therese… Jo… Harrie… the four of them have been better mothers to me than you ever have."

Elaine sat silently, blinking rapidly as her eyes fixed on the edge of the breakfast plate in front of her. "Better? All they did was raise you to be a goddamn fairy. Just. Like. Them."

Throughout the entire ordeal, Carol had remained quiet, letting her sister and her nephew shout back and forth at each other, listening to her sister insult the entire extended family she had been building ever since the day six-year-old Abby had knocked her bicycle into the curb by their house in Montclair, flying over the handlebars and scraping her hands and knees; since that day in college when Harrie offered her a handkerchief back in that movie theater; since that summer evening she jitterbugged and tangoed with Sid and Jamie back at the townhouse on Chestnut Street until the wee hours of the morning; since she spotted Therese behind that toy counter in Frankenberg's.

They were still squabbling as Carol stood, resting the palms of her hands on the tabletop to balance herself and turn to Elaine, telling her very calmly and very quietly that she could leave.

12:35 p.m.

"You okay?"

Jack looked over his shoulder as he saw Therese peer under the bed. "If you're trying to hide, you're six foot four and your hairy legs and monster size fourteen feet are visible." Therese checked the state of the floor beneath the bed, noticing it to be fairly clean so she could slide beneath it next to Jack.

"How'd you know I was here? Legs sticking out aside."

"Carol told me once you liked to read and hide under the beds when you were little."

Jack rested his head on his arms and smiled. "She's the only one who ever knew that. I just like it now because the floor is cool."

"Well, I won't tell anyone."

"Did Teddy take Rindy to the beach?"

"Yeah, they left shortly after your mother."

"They back yet?" he asked.

"No, they're still out."

Jack stared back at her, doing his best to smile, ultimately failing as he sniffled a couple times. "I'm sorry for causing a such scene."

"You didn't cause a scene, Jack. Your mother… "

"Has a difference of opinion?"

"That's one way of looking at it," Therese smiled. She turned back at him, mimicking the way Jack positioned his head on his arms, and sighed. "It's not your fault, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for sticking up for me."

"Anytime. We love you."

"I know."

"Good."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you're only five years older than me."

"Like I said, does it matter?"

"No," he laughed. "It's just nice to know. You… you know... get it."

"Want another shock?"

"What?"

"I was a year older than you when I fell in love with your aunt."

"What?"

"It's true."

Jack lifted his head just high enough that it wouldn't brush against the underside of the bed, and took a moment to swipe his hair that had been so neatly combed earlier away from his eyes. He blinked a few times, then smiled back at Therese as he nudged his calf against her foot. "So tell me… how _did_ you meet Aunt Carol?"

Therese rolled her eyes and grinned, looking away from Jack to hide her face in her arms and chuckled. "I was working at Frankenberg's and wearing one of those ridiculous Santa hats… "

12:45 p.m.

"Do you have a second?"

"Certainly." Harrie tugged at the sleeve of Carol's sweater, pulling her into the old study with its book-lined shelves and card table. Harrie sat in Carol's grandfather's chair, crossing her legs at the knee and sitting as far back as possible in the armchair to get comfortable as she observed Carol's movements. Her hands kept moving around, nervously wringing them and running them through her hair to tuck away strands that were already perfectly in place. "I'm worried, Harriet. What if Elaine says something."

Harrie smiled and shook her head. "She's not gonna say a word."

"My sister's not like me. She's never been able to keep her mouth shut about a damn thing."

"Oh, she will."

Wide-eyed, Carol stopped moving her hands and stared back at her, angling her head. "I'm afraid to ask."

"You should be asking Abby."

"Why?"

Harrie picked up the cigarette box on the small table next to her, opening it and offering one to Carol. "Have at it." With intense hesitation, Carol took a cigarette and placed it between her lips, waiting for Harrie to put down the box and pick up the lighter. Once the cigarette was lit, Harrie made sure Carol took a few drags before starting. "Remember how you didn't see Abby for a long time? Like, three some odd years? Until the war started?"

"When the two of you met for the first time?"

"Yeah."

"Alright… "

"Do you know why?"

"Why I didn't see Abby? Well, I was at school, she was in college, in Europe… "

"During the summers?"

Carol thought for a moment and took another drag, then nervously smiled back at Harrie, shaking her head and exhaling away from her. "No, not during the summers either. I don't remember."

Harrie tilted her head up to avoid the smoke and chuckle. She waited for the cigarette smoke to filter itself away from her before opening her mouth to say anything. "That's because Elaine's husband caught Abby screwing his wife. His wife who was four months pregnant. Pregnant with Jack."

All Carol could do was blink a few times. Blink and turn her head to scratch her earlobe, then take a very extended final drag on her cigarette while intently staring at Harrie.

"Bullshit."

Harrie raised her eyebrows, smiling back at Carol who didn't know if she should laugh hysterically or open the adjacent window and scream out to her best friend lounging by the pool with Sid and Jamie. "Honest to God. Or whatever," she said with her hand in the air. "Abby… apparently has - had - a thing for the Ross sisters. Both of them. While they were pregnant."

"Fucking bullshit, Harrie."

"I'm not making this up! Abby gently - reminded - Elaine of the fact as she was upstairs packing."

"Reminded how?" Carol quickly asked.

"Verbally," Harrie promised with a laugh. "Not lingually… or digitally... but that's not why I wanted to talk to you."

Carol side-eyed the cigarette box and pointed. "I need another one first. Let me… absorb."

As Carol smoked another cigarette, Harrie watched her, waiting to continue speaking until she had finished. She could tell that there were a million questions and thoughts roaming through Carol's mind, things she didn't know to ask yet as she processed everything and chuckled to herself between lengthy inhales of cigarette smoke. The moment she stubbed out the end, Carol folded her hands and placed them on her knee, finally inviting Harrie to continue.

"I want you to know - you and Therese - that I meant what I said. We'll keep an eye on Jack and - "

"Harriet, it's fine. You don't have to - "

"Lemme finish."

"Go on." Harrie smiled back at her and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward and pressing the heel of her hands against her knees. She had that coy smile on her face that Carol so vividly remembered, that look whenever Harrie had something secret to share with her. "I know that expression of yours all too well."

"Oh, do you?"

"That same look when you wanted me to open that box."

"Which you've never done," Harrie added as she flicked her hand against Carol's knee. "Just listen, would ya? Teddy's… Jo's… that fellow… he left Jo a chunk of change for Teddy to go to college. Jo's parents were already going to… you know… take care of that for Teddy, so… as for Jack, I don't want him taking anything from you or his mother, if she ever reconsiders. I'll foot it, alright?"

"Harriet… "

"I want to. Please?"

Carol again reached for the cigarette box, Harrie ready with the lighter, as Carol took another cigarette and sat back in the silence. She smoked another entire cigarette without either of them saying a word, flicking the ashes into the ceramic tray on the table, and looking around the room. Before she finished her cigarette, Carol motioned with it toward a wrapped package sitting on the windowsill. "Is that for one of the boys?"

Harrie angled her head and looked at the present with a smile on her face. "No, that's for you."

"My birthday's not until the end of the month."

"It's not a birthday present."

"Then - "

"Maybe you don't deserve this present until you open that one in your safe deposit first… "

"Let's not be hasty," Carol grinned as she took the wrapped gift from the windowsill, gently shaking the heavy contents from side to side. Carol placed the box in her lap and began to undo the ribbons. "Did you wrap this? It's almost too lovely to open."

"Jo did, but honestly, just open the goddamn thing already."

Before Carol continued untying the ribbon, she paused. "Should I get Therese?"

Harrie waited a moment before replying, looking at the package and then back up at Carol as she bit her lip as she thought of how she wanted to reply. She shrugged, then shook her head, answering no. "This is from before Therese. I mean, this is… "

"Alright," Carol said, finally beginning to remove the colorful red and gold wrapping paper. Once the paper was off, there was a very old, very worn brown gift box. There was no store name on it, nothing identifiable that could give her any hint as to its contents. As she pulled off the lid and peeled back the tissue paper, she saw a black leather briefcase with gold hardware. Carol made a small sound, then smiled. "What's this then?"

"It's a graduation present."

"Darling, you're fifteen years too late on that front."

Harrie pulled the briefcase from the box and held it up for her. "You were always so proud of the fact that you were - _are_ \- the first woman in your family to graduate from college. I'm proud of you because you did and despite absolutely everything over the past fifteen odd years, all the history between the two of us… I know how much it meant to you to accomplish that. I know how much it meant to Harry to have you graduate and go onto to something and become something… someone. Especially to do something that his sister had always wanted.

"I've been hanging onto that thing for all this time. I got that back in California before I flew back East to see you. And it's been sitting in any number of closets… waiting. If there is one thing I've learned throughout the years, and especially since we came back into each other's lives, is that no matter what happens, no matter what, one hundred percent, I am always going to love you and am always going to be there for you when you need me. I'm always going to want to make sure you're alright because you've been through absolute hell and had I known the half of it, I'd have packed up Rindy myself, taken you to California… but then, you met Therese and she just lit up everything for you." Harrie smiled as Carol brushed some loose hair away from her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed Carol on the cheek. "We made things far too complicated for ourselves and… I think - finally - we're all where we ought to be." She let out a sigh and moved around to the back of Carol's grandfather's desk, taking a seat and smoothing out the desk blotter in front of her. "There's something else in the briefcase for you," Harrie added.

Carol moved her attention back to the briefcase, undoing the gold clasp and lifting the flap to reveal an assortment of yellow envelopes tucked inside the pockets. Carol pulled out one of the envelopes and opened it, peeking inside without removing any of the papers.

"More surprises?"

"I know what you're gonna say… "

"How do I know, darling, when I have no clue what I've got in my hands here."

"That is the lease to a small shop over on Fourth. And perhaps one over on Greenwich Avenue… "

"Harrie!"

"Open your own furniture shop. I know you already have some autonomy as a buyer, but you don't as your own boss. There's Rindy to think about - and Therese. At least one of you should be able to drop everything in case someone needs someone." Harrie moved from the desk and walked over to stand in front of Carol, poking her in the chest repeatedly. "And you would be an excellent boss and manager because you've always had an eye for this. Plus you can hire Abby and boss her around. Ever since we met, I've always known you to find grace and beauty within anything. Now, I think you're ready to find that within yourself by doing your own thing."

"And what would your stake be in all of this?"

"Me? You tell me where old theaters are being demolished or refitted. I want their stuff," Harrie laughed and tapped the side of her nose and grinned without having to go into too much detail. "I really don't want anything. Other than for you to be happy. And I know you could do it on your own, with your own funds, but… I wanna help. I've been giving to plenty of charities and things like that, but it's time I did more for my own family and invest in my own family, you know? So please, accept this very belated graduation present and more. I want you to have it because you… you're an inspiration, Carol. And I love you. Jo and me and Teddy? We love you."

"I love you too, scientist. All three of you." Carol picked up the briefcase and placed it upright on the table, then exposed her palms in the air and shut her eyes. After a moment of silence between the two, Carol stood up, smoothed out her skirt, and took a deep breath. "I am getting Therese. We are going upstairs. We are going to take a nice, long, hot, relaxing bath together. We are bringing in the vic and going to listen to some very soft, slow music. We are going to restart this day and… this family is going to move forward very calmly and very peacefully."

"Would you like me to bring you some tea?"

"That would be… divine."

Harrie leaned in to give her a hug and kiss, clinging to her arm even as they were no longer embracing. "Let me find Jack, you go with Therese… hopefully Teddy and Rindy will be back… " Harrie pulled the pocketwatch from her skirt pocket and opened it; Carol peered inside to see that the photo of Teddy had been replaced by one of Therese's recent pictures of Teddy and Jack together. "They ought to be back soon."

"Come on," Carol said, tugging Harrie's hand as they walked into the foyer, "' _il faut cultiver notre jardin_.'"

* * *

"You're back!"

Teddy waved to his mother and gripped each end of towel wrapped around his neck. "Of course! Someone's gotta make tea."

"Oh, honey, you don't have to do that - " Harrie began.

"It's okay, mum." He took the towel from around his neck and placed it on the floor, motioning with his hand for Rindy to come in and stand on the towel so she wouldn't get the floor wet or bring in too much sand. "Besides, someone here says that 'The Expert' taught her the right way to brew a pot."

Rindy looked around, not moving from the towel that Teddy had placed on the floor, and turned back to look out the front door into the driveway. "Did Aunt Elaine leave?"

"Yes, she left," Carol answered.

"Did she take Jack?"

"No, no, darling, Jack's still here."

Rindy smiled. "Good. She hurt everyone's feelings! And was mean!"

Harrie chuckled and motioned toward the staircase, quickly trying to change the subject. "That's all over and done with, you two. Why don't you go upstairs and wash up?"

Rindy hopped onto Teddy's back so he could carry her right up to the bathroom and place her into the bathtub to wash and as he began to walk up the stairs, Rindy shouted back, "I'm glad Aunt Elaine's gone! Remember, Aunt Harrie? You said, 'there's a name for a lady like her, but it isn't used in high society outside of a kennel.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kII7uNGz7lc) for _Designing Woman_ (1957) dir. Vincente Minnelli


	19. Fantasia

Monday, February 24th, 1919  
4:46 p.m.

“Loitering?”

“Yes, loitering.”

Harry peered over the police officer’s shoulder to observe his sister Alice, arms crossed, tapping the scuffed, pointed toe of her high-button boot against the floor, rolling her eyes; clearly beyond disgruntled by her youngest brother trying to step in and pay her fine. He angled himself back in the direction of the officer and looked him straight in the eye. “How can you possibly arrest her for loitering when she can’t walk well to begin with? She’s unable to move quickly and has to stop-and-start. The reason I’m up here in the first place is to bring her medicine. She has a displaced hip - thrown from her horse when she was little - never been able to - “

“Sir - “

He leaned in closer, aiming to speak by his ear, “She's almost sixty - “

“Enough. Just pay the fine, sir. And take her back to New Hampshire while you’re at it.”

He didn’t want to be in trouble with the police either and Harry quickly pulled away and stopped speaking as soon as the officer had butted in a second time. “Don’t pay it, Harry,” his sister urged with a scowl on her face. Opening his jacket and ignoring his sister’s plea, Harry reached inside to pull out his pocketbook, opening it and retrieving five one-dollar bills. “If you’re going to pay, wish you’d pay in pennies,” Alice muttered from behind the officer, who turned around and gave her a menacing look. 

Arresting over twenty uncooperative women was difficult enough for a Monday, but this blonde woman with her smart mouth would not stop no matter how many times the officer threatened to keep her there or increase the fine for her impertinence. He just wanted to be rid of her and all the rest who were taking up valuable space in the already overcrowded jail, especially when they never had that many females detained at one time either. The officer presented a ledger to Harry to sign both their names, then held out to Alice a small envelope of personal effects that had been set aside when she was taken into custody. “Maybe if you had had a husband and children, Miss Ross, you wouldn’t have had the _time_ to get into this sort of trouble.”

Alice ignored the patronizing nature of what the gentleman behind the counter said and as soon as the envelope was in her hands, Alice hurriedly opened it and let the contents fall onto the counter. Among the hatpins, miscellaneous coins, handkerchiefs, calling cards, nearly empty matchbook, hand-rolled cigarettes, and pocketbook, she searched for the one essential item which she had carefully removed when taken into custody. Once she found it, she took the gemstone-ladened item and placed it back in its rightful place on the ring finger of her left hand. Alice looked up at the officer with a wry smile and tilted her head before she spoke, challenging him to make direct eye contact with her. 

“You know - “

“Alice… “ Harry groaned as he tugged at her elbow.

“ - you’re absolutely right.” The officer smiled back, however his expression rapidly turned back to a frown. “Good thing I instead have a wife who encourages this sort of trouble.” She waved her hand with the ring over her shoulder so the officer could catch a glimmer from the stones in the fading light. Harry chuckled as he quickly placed his billfold back inside the inner pocket of his suit and rushed his sister away from the counter without further fuss and before she ended up back in the custody of the Boston police.

“You’re lucky it’s warm today,” Anne shouted across as Harry and Alice approached. As they got closer, Harry noticed Alice wink at the familiar woman before her. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be waiting here.”

“So, Anne, who are your new friends?” Alice eagerly asked as she and her brother stopped in front of her nephew and companion who stood alongside two women she did not know. She did somewhat recognize them from the jail earlier; one was older, the other much younger with curly brown hair peeking out from under her hat and roughly the same age as her nephew, although she couldn’t easily tell. Most likely a mother and daughter, she surmised from a second quick once-over of the two ladies standing beside Anne.

A young man with blond hair and glasses walked closer, slightly frazzled as he removed his hat to scratch the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Aunt Alice, I had seventeen dollars on me, and Aunt Anne here said I should at least pay the fines for these other two ‘troublemakers,’ because Mrs. Lovell here has a baby at home and no one else to bail them out today,” he said, then turned around to face the rest of the group. 

“You did the right thing, Tom,” she said before giving her nephew a kiss on the forehead. “Your Aunt Anne was perfectly legitimate in that request… as she usually is.”

He placed his hat back on his head and broadly smiled when he produced two wrinkled dollar bills from his overcoat pocket. “I have two dollars left if anyone would like to stop for tea.” 

His father pulled a pocketwatch from his vest and opened it, noticing it was nearly five o’clock, not to mention nearly suppertime. Harry made a face and pointed to his watch, trying to get him to notice. “Afraid not, son.”

“So, it’s a bit late for tea - “

“You’re fine, Mr. Howe,” the mother said. “I’ve been arrested five times. This was nothing. So close to home though is a treat! Back in time for a bath, sherry, and supper.”

“And I can see the children before bed,” her daughter pleasantly added. 

“Sid must have been insufferable for the nurse,” the older woman sighed.

“Oh no, he's had plenty to occupy himself. I gave him some embroidery before we left.” Everyone paused to turn and look at the young woman, curious as to what kind of mother would possibly give her son sewing to pass the time. As though she could read what was going through their minds, or rather she had become so accustomed to expanding upon her words, without a hitch in her breath or sounding panicked, she explained herself to mostly curious observers, “Sid wants to be a doctor. Sutures? He'll be much better at sewing up people if he can master a proper mattress stitch.” She shook her head at her confused crowd of onlookers, especially the young man. “It’s a practical skill, you must agree. Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Howe?”

“Actually, ladies,” Thomas chuckled as he jutted his shoulders forward to stand up straighter and looked back at the ladies attentively listening to him, “my name’s not Howe. I just told the police that in case they print it in the newspapers.”

“Now you tell me!” Harry exclaimed as he threw his hands into the air. “I didn’t even think of that! Margaret’s going to… “

The mother pressed her hand to her daughter’s arm, grabbing it as she let out a abrupt shriek. “Darling, you’re lucky you didn’t give your name otherwise they’d never let you back into the country and I would never see my grandchildren!”

Thomas cleared his throat during a pause in the conversation and continued, “I’m Thomas Ross, and this is my father, Harry, and my aunt, Miss Alice Ross, who is Aunt Anne’s - Miss Brewster's - companion. They’re… er, each other’s companions, I suppose… not just the one… They live up in Portsmouth.” He knew he was starting to ramble as he gestured to his father standing alongside his Aunt Alice who clung to his arm for balance. Thomas also knew he had referred to Anne as his relation a moment earlier, forgetting that outside of the immediate family, others did not know she wasn’t exactly his aunt. Changing the subject, he then introduced the two women with whom he had been chatting when his aunt and his father appeared. “This is Mrs. Phillips who lives nearby on Chestnut Street,” Thomas said, “and this is her daughter, Mrs. Lovell. She’s visiting from England with her son and daughter.”

“Do you also live in Portsmouth, Mr. Ross?” Mrs. Phillips sweetly asked.

“No, sadly I don’t. I spent a lot of time with my aunts in Portsmouth growing up though. Right now I'm out here visiting from Washington. State, that is.”

“Ah, Washington,” Mrs. Lovell noted with a smirk. “You don’t have this particular ‘problem’ out there anymore, do you, Mr. Ross?”

Thomas grinned and nodded his head. “That is correct, Mrs. Lovell. Truly not an issue out West.”

“And are you married, Mr. Ross?”

“Jane!”

“It's only a question, mother,” she snipped back with a huff, then rolled her eyes when her mother wasn’t looking. “Are you?”

Thomas smiled back and immediately replied, “I am.”

“With children?”

With a proud grin on his face, he glanced back at Jane and answered, “I have a daughter, Elaine. She’s seven.”

Jane smiled as she stood up straighter to flex her back then adjust her hat which had become dislodged as a gust of wind blew through the courtyard. “In that case, and not to be terribly forward, Mr. Ross, but I’ve not been home to my daughter in several hours. Harriet's four months old and… I imagine she's incredibly - hungry - about now?“ Thomas paused for a moment, trying to decipher what she was saying, then widened his eyes and, the moment he figured it out, stared squarely back at the curiously forthright woman. “Well, I'll have you know - “ 

“You will, will you?” Thomas chuckled.

“ - that is the only reason I let you pay my fine, Mr. Ross.”

“‘I let you’?” he repeated with a smirk.

“Absolutely. I let you pay it.”

Before Thomas and Jane could continue bantering back and forth any further, Mrs. Phillips interrupted their jovial chatter, “Perhaps we could invite you to stay for supper? If you don’t have any prior engagements, that is. It would be lovely to thank you for what you did.”

“Alice, perhaps we should head back,” Anne softly noted. “Your leg has been acting up all day and being cooped up in there surely made it worse.”

“Nonsense,” Alice said with a wave of her hand, “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You sure? You’ve been a bit - ”

“Positive. Besides, Brother here has brought me my medicine.”

“We have some fifty bottles of Château Margaux alone that will need to be consumed before January if all of you would care to get started on ridding the house of it.”

Alice looked to Anne who smiled back and nodded her head in agreement. “Sold.”

“Wonderful! It’s not every day I get to entertain two like-minded guests from Portsmouth.”

“If it's not too much trouble, perhaps one of you could hail a cab?” Anne asked, speaking in the direction of Thomas and Harry. “It might not be far, but Alice shouldn’t be putting any further pressure on that leg. Especially since she hasn’t had her medicine in a while.” Anne looked squarely at Harry as she spoke, eying the middle of his jacket where she knew he carried a leather pouch containing her medicine he had come all the way up to deliver. Embarrassed at nearly forgetting the purpose of their visit, he retrieved the pouch from his pocket and passed it over to Anne.

“Honestly, you make such a fuss!” Alice murmured.

“It's for your own - “

“You always do and I won't make brownies - “

Walking away and ignoring his aunts and now his father who somehow managed to tangled himself up in their chatter, Thomas hailed a cab. He helped Anne and Jane inside first, then let the two of them help get Alice inside, giving her the seat closest to the door, bidding her goodbye as soon as she was settled. Jane took the seat opposite, allowing the two older women to have the bench seat following the direction of traffic. She didn't mind sitting backwards. Thomas shut the car door, letting his hand linger where the window was rolled down. He angled his head to peer inside and was immediately confronted with Jane’s cheery face staring back at him. “Mr. Ross, aren’t you coming?” she pleasantly asked. “My mother’s just going to walk, so there’s room for one more.”

Thomas pointed with his thumb back toward his father and Mrs. Phillips. “If it’s alright with you, Mrs. Lovell, I’ll walk with your mother. She's really looking forward to the afternoon constitutional and showing us the neighborhood. After that, my father and I really ought to get the next train back. We’ve been up to Portsmouth, then down to here, and need to get back to my mother.”

“Oh, I suppose this is goodbye then,” she disappointedly noted, “I was hoping you'd stay for supper, then perhaps attend a lecture with me once I get the children to bed. You might like it.” 

“A lecture on what?”

“Birth control. Free love. Drinking absinthe I smuggled in and reading Walt Whitman in the all together while in mixed company.” Blushing, Thomas smiled and looked away for a moment. “What?”

He shook his head, then made eye contact with Jane once more. “Nothing.”

“I was teasing about the last one.”

“I figured; however, wouldn’t your husband… mind?”

“Not even a little bit, Mr. Ross.” Jane looked back at him, blinking a few times as she replayed his responses. “When I mentioned all that, you weren't shocked.”

“Not even a little bit, Mrs. Lovell.”

“Good,” she agreed, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. “Besides, everyone knows Emily Dickinson’s far more enjoyable.” Jane winked, then turned to the two women in the cab with her. “Shall we head out then, ladies?”

Thomas waited for her to turn back to look out the window, as he tapped his fingers against the frame, but she didn't until he opened his mouth to say goodbye. “It was very nice meeting you, Jane,” he quietly said as not to catch the attention of the other passengers for referring to the young woman by her given name and hoped that his deep voice did not carry too far into the cab.

Letting her fingers grip the same part of the door as Thomas, Jane brushed the side of her hand against his and swallowed before speaking. “Likewise, Tom.” 

Jane looked at him without saying anything more, watching how his fingers fidgeted against the car door while she hoped and waited for him to say something else. He was so friendly and cheerful, and incredibly fun to tease, not to mention she instantly thought upon meeting him that her husband would probably think the same. Shame they wouldn’t have the opportunity to get to know each other better, she thought. They each let go of the cab’s window frame as it pulled away in the direction of the house on Chestnut Street.

As Jane settled into her seat, she silently watched the two women across from her fervently try to avoid speaking, neither saying what they really wanted to say to each other even though it was painfully obvious they wanted to after what they had been through. She had watched them bicker with each other over the most trivial of subjects during the brief car ride, namely Alice’s well being, acting like the oldest married couple she had ever seen in her life.

It was then Jane noticed they hadn't put their gloves back on, but it wasn't so cold they were absolutely necessary. That was when Jane saw Alice's ring, how it was identical to the one Anne wore, and in her mind, suddenly everything fell into place. She eagerly tried to hold back a grin, however couldn't help it as she watched the two of them interact. 

“Your rings,” Jane said with a smile as she looked at each woman's hands neatly folded and placed on her own lap. “They match… and are simply as lovely as the pair of you.”

Anne smiled at Alice, then Alice smiled back at her, taking Anne's hand in her own and tucking their joined hands between the folds of their two woolen coats.

Friday, August 22nd, 1941  
3:47 p.m.

“My hands are full. Could you please get the key?” Carol looked back over her shoulder, observing Harrie, who walked with two paint cans swinging in each hand, and arched her eyebrow in silent reply. Harrie flatly stared back and shook her head, laughing. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

With the toe of her shoe, Carol first gently tapped the door, then more firmly pressed against it until it finally budged open without a key or either of them having to turn the doorknob. “These current locks are merely a suggestion. As is that front gate."

“The door bolts from inside,” Harrie offered with a shrug, "and you just have to jab the gate to get it open. We’ve been alright for the past two years. I don’t see what all the hubbub is about.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Oh, it's just fine, gorgeous. I've lived in cities my whole life. This is nothing.”

Carol rolled her eyes and walked inside. “Harriet, you're making me consider gun ownership.”

Harrie placed the paint cans to the right of the entrance and out of their way in order to shut the door. “No firearms, goddammit! Besides, I’ve got my cricket bat,” she dismissively noted, “and there’s nothing here for anyone to steal, or _would_ want to steal for that matter.”

Swiftly turning around, Carol assessed the room and looked for anything of value within her line of sight. She paused when she got to the fireplace, outstretching her arm and then pointing to the large radio and record player console nearby. Harrie noticed where she was pointing, but said nothing. Carol lowered her arm and dramatically sighed. “Our vic? What about our vic? How would we have our impromptu swing sessions?”

“Pfft, it’d probably take three burly lads to move that monstrosity. I’m not worried… and we can still have our swing sessions,” Harrie mumbled then walked up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on Carol’s shoulder. She pressed her nose against the side of her neck, taking a deep breath. “You smell really, really good. Is that the one … oh, I really don’t care if _he_ got you that perfume - “

“For starters,” Carol breathed, not realizing she had been holding her breath as Harrie’s nose traced against her skin, “don’t change the goddamn subject. Secondly, I don’t want ‘three burly lads’ as you put it, storming into our house while we’re out, or in, or… engaged… in things.”

“Honestly, Carol, I don’t - “

“Fix it!” Carol sternly ordered, although her request didn’t come out nearly as sternly as she’d hoped as it ended in a near giggle with Harrie’s hands teasingly passing up and down Carol’s stomach, trying to tuck themselves beneath the waistband of her skirt. Carol led her hands with her own and moved them to cup her breasts. “None of this,” she emphasized with a couple of guided squeezes, “until that is secured.”

A disgruntled, more likely, pouty groan came from behind Carol, however the hands clinging to her breasts didn't let go and a pair of lips cautiously breathed along the side of her neck one more time, pressing sweet, short kisses toward her mouth, despite the fact that both Harrie’s lips (and her hands) were never quite able to reach their destinations. “Fine, fine,” she conceded. “How about you help me paint the door before you head back Wednesday? You’ll have to wait on the new key though, but at least that way, we both get what we want.”

Ultimately, the breathy moan that evaded Carol’s lips moments after gave it all away, and Harrie curiously smiled as all was forgotten concerning the front door lock.

Friday, June 14th, 1946  
2:48 p.m.

It was the last day of the school year. The last day of first grade. The beginning of summer vacation. Nearly three months when Harrie was looking forward to spending every day with Teddy and Joanne. In the middle of the following week, they were planning to head to East to meet up with Joanne who was visiting her family, then sail together to England for their first big family trip. Teddy was beyond excited to be traveling overseas; Joanne was only slightly nervous about meeting Harrie’s family for the first time; and Harrie couldn't wait to see her father, Sid, and James after nearly seven years apart. Her grandmother had died during the war, apparently after a bout of pneumonia, so it was only her father living in the large old house just outside of town with the two boys. 

Waiting by the chain link fence, Harrie looked at the blonde woman to her left, casually smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoky air somewhere in her vicinity without really thinking about where it was going. Without saying anything, Harrie stared at her, hoping the woman would notice that she was disrupting the tiny patch of fresh air she thought she had while patiently waiting for Teddy to get out of school. She let the tip of the cricket bat she held rattle back and forth against the metal fence.

Harrie had had enough though, and neither Joanne or Teddy knew that even when they returned from their vacation, Harrie wouldn't be going back into work every day. The work was different. Instead of developing solutions to benefit the war effort, the solutions shifted to line the pockets of others all while trying to convince themselves of promoting better living through chemistry. The goals seemed to be more muddled and even more secretive than before. Some colleagues felt less trusting, less cooperative with outsiders as well. Harrie couldn’t work like that. She wasn’t doing something that made neither herself happy or others. Those around her were just as discontent, yet they didn’t seem to make that quite as known. And it wasn’t about the money, although she was fairly certain when new lab assistants were taken on, they were earning more than she was without her equivalent credentials and experience. They had spouses and families, she sometimes heard in the grumblings around the building. Not that Harrie didn’t, but no one else around her knew that. Not that she needed the money either. It was the principle of it all that bothered her.

Things were simply different before the war, when there were lots of women entering the field and doing research and development alongside her. Less than a year after the war ended, she found herself the only woman remaining in the lab. All the others had gotten married, moved away to the suburbs, quickly starting families and acting as though all those years they had put into furthering their education and professional lives were for nothing. Or so their letters and postcards back to the rest of the office would have her believe. All in just a matter of months it seemed.

“How about you? Where’s your fellow?” 

“How does he feel about you working? I wouldn't tolerate my girl going to work every day like this.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend, you say? Well, how’d you like to… “

“When are we gonna get to meet him?” 

“Is he as tall as you?”

“Whaddya say we go out this weekend? Jukebox Saturday night?”

The questions got old much faster than she anticipated. No matter how many times she said she didn’t have a boyfriend or a husband, no one listened. Especially one senior lab technician who appreciated her brains, but was more interested in pinching or tapping her bottom as he walked past. Without fail, always just before the lunch hour. No matter how many times Harrie told him to stop, he always came back with, “What? It was just a tap, Lovell. You know you love it”

That same Friday morning after walking Teddy to school, as she came into the lab, he pointed and laughed at the cricket bat she was carrying, unabashedly sneering, “Hey, Lovell? In America, we play baseball.” Harrie simply smiled and went over to her desk to get started with the day’s tasks, seemingly forgetting the whole incident. Just before one, she finished typing up a letter, covered the typewriter, and packed her things as if heading to lunch. Quietly approaching the troublesome colleague’s desk, Harrie leaned over and politely asked what he was working on and if he needed any help, all in the most cheerful of demeanors. Surprised, he stood up and walked to the blackboard where he had been finishing some calculations, all the while looking back over his shoulder every few seconds and eying Harrie up and down with a smug grin until he saw the cricket bat in her hand. 

The grin immediately turned sour as she struck his backside over and over, repeatedly telling him it was just a tap and that her seven-year-old son understood the meaning of no better than he. When their fellow co-workers began appearing to investigate the commotion, every one of them watched, then started laughing. Not at Harrie, but at the unfortunate young man, who it plainly appeared, no one really liked from the start.

She wasn’t entirely cruel and ceased walloping him when she saw his eyes get watery. Shaking her head and chuckling to herself, she looked at him in the same way he always ogled her, sad it had come to that, yet pleased with herself for finally putting an end to it. Harrie stared at his face then shifted her gaze downward, shaking her head and biting her lip. As he stood up, Harrie and her fellow onlookers grimaced when they saw the front of his pants standing on end. “Ugh, seriously?” she snapped, pointing with the cricket bat in her hand. Harrie closed her eyes and shook her head once more. She was upset with herself for having to stoop to his level to the point across, but there was truly no other way. As she made her way for the door, she muttered to the embarrassed lab technician, “For the record, about half a billion people around the world follow cricket.”

Exasperatedly walking away, she went back to her desk to pick up her briefcase, then marched into her boss’ office where she shut the door, handed in a letter of resignation without an explanation, collected her paycheck, and waltzed just as quickly out of the building and out of that terrible workplace. She left everything behind except a framed photograph, pen case, and coffee mug. The lab coat at home with her surname lovingly stitched onto the pocket - the very one Jo had given her as a present when she got her doctorate - was much nicer anyways.

* * *

The shrill outside bell of the elementary school was quickly followed by a surging crescendo of small, squeaky voices inside the building, joyously shouting and stampeding towards the entrance doors. Some children ran to the playground, some directly to their parents. Nevertheless, every child was running as quickly as possible to get out of the building.

Except one little boy who calmly walked down the stairs and made his way over to his mother, loosening his tie as he made a slow approach.

“So, I hear you’ve been released?”

“I got out on good behavior, Mummy,” Teddy answered with a smirk, “and promoted!”

Harrie held out her hand to take the saddlebag from his shoulder as she looked around to see if there were other parents still within an earshot, then whispered to Teddy, “You smart arse. Got your lunch tin?” Harrie tucked an envelope into his bag and tightened one of the clasps. The little boy smiled and eagerly nodded as he held it up for her to see. “Let’s go.” Teddy took his mother’s hand as they walked away from school toward the end of the block. As he angled to turn right heading home, Harrie tugged on his hand, stopping him instantly. “Say, where you going?”

“Home?”

“Nah, come on, your choice. Aquarium or Playland.”

“I don’t know. That’s _hahd_ ,” he whined, mimicking his mother.

“Watch it, buster.” Teddy covered his mouth to hide a giggle, then quickly composed himself as he dropped his hand to his side. Harrie couldn’t try to sound stern with him if she tried. He stood up straight and thought for a moment at his mother’s proposition, tapping his foot against the sidewalk as he thought. “How about I make it easy for you?” Teddy stopped tapping his foot and looked up at his mother. “Aquarium closes at five and by the time we get there, you’ll only have a couple hours. On the other hand, if we go to Playland, there's cricket on the beach and maybe an It's-It… “ Harrie raised her hand to the hollow of her neck and tapped the same spot, jostling the pendant of her amber necklace. After a moment, Teddy smiled when he realized what she was getting at and placed the lunch pail at his feet, so he could remove his tie with both hands. He held it out, silently asking Harrie to take the tie from him. “Playland it is then! Oh, we need to make one quick stop before we get on the streetcar. That okay, Teddy Bear?”

Teddy nodded and took a couple steps, then paused. “Can you - _could_ you - help me with my sweater? I’m warm.” He raised his arms in the air as he held the cuffs of the shirt he wore underneath and from above Harrie tugged at the sleeves to pull it over his head. Harrie took the burgundy sweater from him and folded it along with the tie as best she could to neatly tuck away inside his saddlebag. “Ready!” he said once both his shirtsleeves were securely folded up just above his elbow.

For the first few minutes, the two walked in silence as they trudged down the hill toward Geary. When they reached the front gate of an older house, most likely built sometime following the earthquake, Harrie squeezed his hand gently and stopped walking. “Here we are.” Teddy curiously looked at his mother and flipped his hand around to the other side of the fence to undo the latch, but had some trouble getting it open. Harrie smiled and reached down to touch his hand. “You gotta jab it - like this.” 

“Oh,” he said, stepping to the side to let his mother walk past first. “Mummy, whose house is this?” Teddy asked as they walked up the front steps. 

Harrie didn’t reply immediately. She walked over to the corner of the front porch, looking at the wooden deck chair with white paint beginning to chip away at the edges and grabbed the banister with both hands as she leaned over the side to look down into the narrow alleyway. Teddy mimicked her movements, also looking down the alley for whatever reason. When she realized Teddy was beside her, Harrie cleared her throat and smiled back at him. “I used to live here. When I was still in school. Before I met your mother.”

“Can I see your room?”

“May I?”

“May I see your room?” Teddy repeated with a faint huff in his voice.

“Sure. There’s not much in there probably, but I’ll show it to you.”

With Teddy trailing behind her, Harrie moved toward the front door of the vacant house, opening it with her key tied to a blue and white string. As soon as the front door opened and they walked in, a blast of stuffy, stale air came at them. It had been at least a year, if not longer, since Harrie had last stepped foot in the house. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Nothing moved, nothing touched. Teddy wandered over to the fireplace and stood in the opening, glancing upward to see if the flue was cleared and tapping the metal closure with his finger. Harrie stood motionless in the living room, looking at the molding next to the floor and how there was a consistent scuff from where the vacuum cleaner head collided with the white fixture. Everything looked the same, only more dusty. Had it truly only been a year and then some since she had lived there? 

“Hello? It’s Mrs. Archer!” A high-pitched voice came from behind Harrie, startling her before she turned around to see who it was. Teddy was equally startled as he poked at the metal closure above his head and soot and debris came crashing down, luckily stepping out of the way before it all landed on top of his head. Harrie tried not to laugh as she looked at a very panicked little boy who was busy trying to brush away small dollops of soot that had tumbled onto his shoes. “Miss Lovell, how do you do?”

Harrie turned to face the realtor, re-focusing on where she was and why she was there to start with. “ _Dr_. Lovell,” she pointedly responded. “Thank you for coming today, Mrs. Archer.”

“My pleasure. We’ve had a lot of offers on the property already.” She cleared her throat, then quickly added, “Dr. Lovell.”

“Good.” Without turning to Teddy, Harrie beckoned him toward her, knowing he had an eye on her despite all attention focused on the realtor. “I have the signed documents and everything here, ready to go.”

The relator watched as Teddy moved closer to his mother to stand beside her, noticing how they looked so similar in appearance, right down to the same dark hair and same dimples when they smiled. “Your little boy looks just like you.”

Without any hesitation or desire to correct her, Harrie replied, “He does.”

“He’s very sweet.”

“He is.”

“What’s his name?”

“Theodore, but we call him Teddy.” Harrie didn’t like the questions. At least it was a bit different since the war. There were lots of children without fathers, lots of women raising children on their own or with other family members. Even so, she didn’t like when strangers probed, then glanced at her hand only to see there was no wedding ring. People still judged, but mostly they didn’t ask questions or they assumed his father died in the war. Which was true. It just wasn’t the entire story. 

“Mommy, mummy, and me are going to England next week,” Teddy chimed in. “I’m going to meet my grandfather and my uncles - “

“We really ought to be going. Is there anything else on my end, Mrs. Archer?” Harrie interrupted, not wanting Teddy to go on and on to a stranger about their plans. She didn’t mean to sound short with the little boy who clearly caught on that he shouldn’t continue speaking. Especially since he mentioned having two mothers. She wondered if Mrs. Archer had caught on to his choice of words.

“Just the keys.” Pushing aside Teddy’s school bag to rifle through her pockets, Harry pulled out her set of keys and carefully detached the one she no longer needed from the key ring. Teddy stood quietly next to his mother, watching her hand the key over. As soon as the key was in the relator’s hand, she looked down at Teddy then back to Harrie. “Only the one?” Harrie nodded. “No copies made?”

Harrie looked down, taking Teddy’s hand, and tilted her head up again to look squarely at Mrs. Archer as she gave her reply. “No, that’s it.”

* * *

As Harrie and Teddy sat along the benches of the streetcar, seated across from one another, Harrie watched how Teddy quietly sat staring out the window, observing the cars speeding past them on either side of the tracks. Harrie felt badly for interrupting him earlier, especially when the little boy was so excited about their first trip together as a family and his first trip overseas in an ocean liner. She also felt equally guilty for not showing him her old room as she’d promised, but then again, she didn’t think being back in that house would stir up so many memories. 

She and Joanne had their own memories there together. Nights when Joanne would stay over at Harrie's, spending hours in bed talking, joking, and making love until they were too tired to move and their throats scratchy from moaning and breathing heavily. Joanne would leave Teddy with a neighbor who didn't ask too many questions; however, that didn’t last long. Not when Harrie found out Joanne was leaving Teddy with someone else so they could have time alone together. And ever since, Harrie moved in to Joanne’s house and the three of them started their life together. During those nights they did spend together at the house, the two of them managed to erase any memory of that mysterious person who came before, the girl who irrefutably broke Harrie’s heart. Despite Joanne telling her not to stew over what was the past, Harrie couldn’t help but remember how painful that sting felt, and the betrayal. It was Joanne who finally convinced her to let it all go, to forgive and forget, and sell the house once and for all. Besides, their new home over in Berkeley was even nicer, had a bigger yard for impromptu cricket matches, a brand new automatic dishwasher, and an entire top floor that Harrie turned into a dedicated lab and study.

Harrie didn’t realize there was a tear running down her cheek. Not until Teddy walked across the aisle, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket, and holding it out to her. “Mummy, are you okay?” he softly asked, cautiously steadying himself on the moving streetcar.

Catching herself and trying to laugh it off, something she always did whenever caught with watery eyes, Harrie took the handkerchief from him and wiped her cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just some grit in my eye.”

“Oh,” said Teddy as he positioned himself in front of her, peering into the troublesome eye as best he could, “is there anything I can do? Something stuck in your eye can be very serious.”

“It’s nothing, Dr. Barrett, but thank you,” Harrie teasingly answered, lowering his hand. She dabbed the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief, neatly folding it and placing it inside Teddy’s schoolbag. As she looked inside, Harrie noticed a familiar small blue booklet and pulled it out. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Uh huh.”

“Is there anything you want to tell me before I open this up?”

Teddy looked away for a moment, then turned back and smiled. “No.”

That was typical of Teddy. They never received a call from the principal or his teachers saying something was amiss. He didn't seem to find himself in too much trouble, other than be somewhat bored during lessons on subjects his mothers had both already taught him. Besides, how bad could a first grader’s report card be any way? 

_Arithmetic? Music? Composition? Reading? Art? Numbers? Hygiene?_ All excellent.

 _Sitting correctly? Walking correctly? Keeping hands, nails, face, etc. clean? Covering mouth when coughing? Using a handkerchief?_

Harrie smirked as she read the last of the Personality Training marks. Of course he knew how to use a handkerchief properly. 

_Respectful of others?_

Harrie tucked the report card book back into Teddy’s bag then took his hand, still feeling guilty about before and squeezed it a couple times. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry I interrupted you back at the house earlier. It’s very rude and inconsiderate, and I shouldn’t do that if I’m supposed to set a good example for you.”

Teddy shrugged, not bothered, and squeezed his mother’s hand back. “I understand. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. I don't want you to think I'm ashamed or… or… “ Harrie composed herself and took a deep breath. She has never been ashamed a day in her life, and she never tried to hide anything from anyone. Most importantly, she didn't want Teddy to think she was ashamed of him or their little family. She wasn't sure how to explain it, nor was she sure she had to say anything at all. Parents didn't always provide children with thorough explanations. And Teddy was only seven-and-a-half. She could still easily get away with not having to explain herself, but truthfully, she didn’t want to be like other parents who kept their children in the dark or didn’t discuss things with them. “I was just thinking of something from a very long time ago - well, not that long ago - and it made me sad, but then… I thought of you and Mommy and… “ Harrie paused to look around, noticing they had the back of the streetcar to themselves, “how much I love you both.”

Teddy tilted his head and rested it against her arm. “I love you too.”

“Plus I’m sorry you didn’t get to see my room. I assure you, there wasn’t anything to see,” she laughed. “So, to make up for my very rude behavior, Teddy Bear, what do you say… you can have a whole It’s-It when we get to Playland? I won’t even try to share it with you.”

“What?” Teddy incredulously exclaimed. He always shared his ice cream with one of his mothers. He could never finish one entire It’s-It on his own, nor could she.

“Yup.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.” Harrie then nudged him with her elbow. “Besides, if you eat a whole one, consider it your dinner.”

Teddy nudged her back. “You just said you were worried about setting a good example.”

Harrie sighed, looking down at her feet and laughing. “This is true, but firstly I'm not always going to be right or perfect and secondly, we’re going to be in England for a couple months and I don’t think you’ll be having any ice cream there. Then again, I’m not sure if it’ll still be toffee carrot-on-a-stick… “ Teddy grimaced and let go of his mother’s hand, slinking away. “Don’t give me that look,” she laughed and tugged his hand to pull him back close to her. “We’re going to have a marvelous time.”

Wednesday, December 22nd, 1965  
10:48 a.m.

Therese rushed into the bedroom from the en suite bathroom, towel barely clinging to her shoulders and scurrying to the armoire to find a clean outfit. The heat was turned down to the minimum as no one was expected to be home during the day, at least not until Carol left the shop around lunchtime to come home so she could start packing items to head to Greenwich in the morning. Then again, Therese wasn’t expecting to have to be home in the middle of the morning due to the entire pot of coffee that ended up spilled onto her skirt. After all those years of working at the _Times_ , she thought she had known better than to not keep a clean outfit tucked away somewhere in her office for occasions such as these. After New Year’s, she told herself, after New Year’s she’d make sure there was something clean for her to wear whenever impromptu rowdiness or generic office shenanigans occurred.

As she sat on the edge of the bed and rolled her stockings neatly up each leg, Therese was startled by the sound of snoring coming from the window; then, was even more startled by the sight of a crumpled pile of clothes on the floor and a blanket-covered lumpy mass stretched out and dozing on the window seat. She had only been in the shower for about ten minutes, however clearly those ten minutes were more than enough time for someone to come in and make themselves at home. Her shoulders tensed the moment she heard the foreign snores, yet once she realized that only one person snored like that and only one person ever slept in the window seat, Therese relaxed and softly chuckled to herself. She silently padded over to the bedroom door and peeked out into the hallway where, sure enough, she spotted an oversized trunk blocking some of the natural light that came into the living room.

Therese resumed getting dressed and once done, walked over to the previously unknown sleeping mass and bent down to kiss the tiny patch of frizzy brown hair poking out from from the covers. “Welcome back,” Therese whispered, then pulled the blanket up tighter around Harrie’s shoulders.

From somewhere under the covers came a short muffled response of, “Thanks, dimples,” immediately followed by the noise of Harrie rolling over onto her other side to face Therese who was looking down at her. “Hope I didn’t scare you.”

“You did,” Therese replied, “but I can’t say there are too many burglars out there who would break into an apartment, take off their clothes, then tuck themselves in on the window seat. Especially when there’s a perfectly good, perfectly made bed right over there.”

Eyes still closed, Harrie made a low purring sound and burrowed her head into a pilfered pillow from the bed. “Is it okay, if I sleep here a bit? Too tired to… “

“Go ahead, sleep. Carol and Abby will be home around lunchtime. I’ll be sure to leave a note so they don’t have a fright and a half.” Therese turned back to the nightstand, retrieving the necklace she had taken off before getting into the shower. Carefully looping the chain around her neck, she fastened it, then checked herself in the mirror, straightening the ruby circle to fall directly in the middle. Prior to leaving, Therese went back toward Harrie and closed one of the blinds. “I'm glad you're home,” she whispered before closing another blind and heading out, leaving Harrie softly snoring on her usual window seat sleeping spot.

* * *

Abby rushed to the front door of the apartment ahead of Carol who had her hands full of boxes and bags. “You sure you don't want to get lunch?” she asked as she unlocked the door. “Last chance to see Nora before New Year’s.”

Dropping the bags in the entryway, Carol looked up from the pile of purchases and smiled. “No, no. You go on. Send her our love. I need to sort this before tomorrow… and before Therese gets home.”

“You lovebirds, I swear to God.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “Stop by for dinner. Unless you're going to New Jersey for the rest of the day,” she mockingly shuddered in horror.

“If I get lucky I'll be there the rest of the day,” Abby smirked. “I'll keep you posted.”

“Please don't.”

Abby laughed, then leaned in to kiss her friend on the cheek before heading out to drive to Paramus. Carol breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to finally have some time to herself. She kicked off her heels, unpinned her hat, and made her way toward the bedroom to get changed. As she approached the bedroom, she found the door shut with a note taped to it, distinctly noticeable at Carol's eye level, in Therese’s hand, warning her there was a “travel-weary, curly-haired, snoring beast” asleep on the window seat. 

Upon opening the door, Carol spotted the lumpy mass, snoring and sleeping, in the window seat, curled up in her usual spot. Silently moving toward the window, Carol approached and sat down beside her friend, taking a spot near the narrow of her legs, and observed a bare foot sticking out from under the blanket. With a mischievous smile on her face, she swiped her finger upward across the flat of Harrie’s foot, causing her to sit upright with a jolt. Luckily, the majority of the blankets covering her also followed as she sat up, startled by the tickle at her foot.

“You scared the fuck outta me!” Harrie exclaimed. “You're lucky I didn't kick you in the face.”

Carol warmly smiled back and observed her friend with tousled hair and severe lack of appropriate sleep clothing considering it was winter. Or anything to sleep in at all. “Nice pajamas,” she commented. “What if Therese had come in here and seen you like this?”

Harrie shrugged. “I was like this,” she replied, gathering the corners of the blanket and settling back into her makeshift bed. “She didn't care. And besides, Therese has seen me in much less. And I know you've seen me - “

Holding up her hand, Carol turned away for a moment to get Harrie to cease any additional explanation. She remembered perfectly well the one scorching summer afternoon she and Therese arrived at the house in Greenwich to find Joanne and Harrie nude sunbathing on the poolside lawn chairs, stretched out and fading in and out of sleep. When Therese shouted they had neighbors (albeit a good couple hundred yards away), Joanne jumped off the chair and dove directly into the pool, while Harrie just shrugged the whole thing off and flipped over onto her stomach. And it had happened at least four other times (that she knew about, at least) since 1954.

“You’ve always been a secret exhibitionist.” Harrie smiled in response and slightly loosened her grip on the edge of the blanket. “What's wrong with the boys’ apartment upstairs?”

Harrie scrunched her nose, plainly blurting out, “It smells like boys. Even after six months. Plus you have food. And alcohol. And you smell better.” 

Carol nodded in agreement. “Point taken.”

“And no one's up there. It's lonely.” Yawning and burrowing in further to the window seat, she reached a hand up to rub her eye before settling in again. 

It would have been easy for Carol to invent a sarcastic remark to Harrie’s comment, but she knew that feeling of coming home to something vacant, somewhere that was once lively and bursting with family and friends, then suddenly wasn’t one day. She couldn’t blame her for always popping up at the apartment whenever she traveled back through via New York. A year earlier, Harrie gave Phil the apartment above the Pearl, allowing him to move in with his girlfriend and completely take over running the movie theater. Despite having the means to afford their own place, she and Joanne always found themselves staying in the boys’ studio upstairs or at Abby’s whenever she was away or Carol and Therese’s whenever Rindy was at school. No one seemed to mind. Everyone else always did the same thing whenever they were in Boston, readily invading one floor of the townhouse for their own amusement, coming and going as they pleased. Either way, each of them managed to have at least one drawer in every house for miscellaneous clothing items. “Since the second thing you mentioned was food, I take it you’re hungry, scientist?”

“Starving.” 

Carol turned to look in the direction of the kitchen, almost expecting to see an instant array of pre-made foods and treats, then only distantly remembering bare kitchen counters, sadly realizing the cupboards and fridge were essentially just as bare as what she remembered of the counters. “I’m afraid there’s not much. Some soup, maybe? Saltines?”

“I'm hungry, not run down with a cold.”

“There's still a slice of apple pie.”

“Do you have cheddar to put on it?”

“No, all out.”

“‘Apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze.’”

“Well, I don't know,” Carol exasperatedly sighed. “If you were looking for a restaurant, you can go right on down to H&H. Instead you show up here and expect - “ She stopped mid-sentence and caught her breath, ceremoniously trying not to yell at her exhausted friend. “I’m sorry, I’m… I’ve had a difficult week. I’ve had a lot of my mind and been... “ Exposing the palms of her hands, then brushing back a strand of hair away from her forehead, she abruptly stated, “I'm going to step out for a moment. When I get back - “

“- you want me to go?” Harrie meekly offered. “Because I can go - “

“No, no. Don’t. I’m sorry. Don't,” she interrupted, then stopped herself again. Harrie said nothing, then tilted her head to look out the window. “I'll be back in half an hour, alright? Later. I promise. Just going to pop around the corner.” 

Carol checked the area around her desk, looking for her briefcase beneath boxes of wrapped presents and bags of to-be-wrapped items. She made a small sound when she found it, pausing at the memory of receiving the briefcase as a belated gift from Harrie, finally opening it up to remove a few items and create an empty space for something she needed to pick up over on Lexington.

Thursday, June 20th, 2024  
3:58 p.m.

“Please tell me Safeway had them.”

Grinning, Rindy joyously held up a small white box as she approached the park bench where Jack and Teddy sat holding hands and looking over their shoulders waiting for her to come back to the beach. 

“You’re just using me for my legs,” Rindy sighed as she held out the box to her cousin, “and the fact I’m still young enough to rent a car.”

“I’ve never once complained about your legs,” teased Teddy, nudging Rindy’s arm. 

“There’s nothing to tease about. You two, on the other hand, you should both be banned from wearing Lycra shorts on those bike rides,” Rindy jibed back.

Jack shook his head and tore open the small cardboard box in his hand. “Whatever.” He looked inside the box and dumped the contents onto his lap, careful not to let anything fall to the ground. “That’s convenient: three to a box.”

“Exceedingly so,” Rindy said as she reached across Teddy to help herself to an ice cream.

“I was gonna pass them out, Rin.”

Rindy ripped open the cellophane wrapper, shaking her head. “Nope, too slow.” 

Teddy ignored the two cousins bickering on either side of him and opened his ice cream. As he took a bite, he closed his eyes and smiled. The walk over from the supermarket had caused the ice cream to melt just a little and the cookie to thaw and soften just enough that it wasn’t like biting into a rock. When he opened his eyes again, both Rindy and Jack were staring at him, intently watching him consume his ice cream.

“You alright there?” Jack asked with laugh.

“You’re practically purring as you eat that thing.”

“Sorry,” Teddy said, lowering his ice cream. 

“Don’t apologize,” scoffed Rindy, “you’re loving this.”

Jack looked back at the drawing on the white box, then back to the ice cream in his hand. “So, what is… this?”

“It’s an It’s-It.”

Slouching against the bench in frustration, Jack chuckled and counted out something on his fingers. “You said ‘it’ three times. Nouns, adjectives, verbs… use them.“

“It’s an ice cream sandwich made with oatmeal cookies and vanilla ice cream, then covered in chocolate,” Teddy explained. He paused for a moment to look at what remained of his ice cream and squinted. “I think it used to be bigger.”

“A lot of things used to seem bigger to you, Teddy,” mumbled Rindy before taking her first bite.

“And _you_ used to be blonde,” Jack retorted.

“So were you.”

Teddy turned to look at Rindy, deadpan expression on his face, blinking a couple times. It was the same expression Rindy recognized from every other time someone in their family did or said something obscenely ridiculous. “I swear, Rin,” he started, unable to get the words out without faltering, “you… I don’t know if you get it from your mother or my mum.”

“Or Abby,” Jack added. “Definitely not Therese.”

“Anyway,” Teddy noted as he looked back in Jack’s direction, “what do you think?”

Jack nodded his head, taking another bite and raising his arm to wipe his hand against the corner of his mouth. Teddy caught his arm, then reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief to wipe an errant drop of vanilla ice cream. “It’s good, thank you,” he replied. Jack leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, then returned to his treat. “You’ve got some on your hand too, Rin.” 

Rindy looked down at her hand, sighing and noticed a trickle of melted ice cream between her fingers and the silver ring with gemstones she wore. She polished off the remaining bites of her ice cream, crumbled up the wrapper, and tossed it into the empty box on Jack’s lap, waiting for the other two boys to finish theirs. Licking her fingers and contemplating what to do, Teddy held out his handkerchief so she could clean the ring on her left hand. Cleaning it up and returning it to its rightful spot, Rindy paused a moment to look at the way the gemstones reflected in the sunset, having to shut one eye to look at it properly in the bright light. She repeatedly rubbed her thumb across the stones, lost in her thoughts and thinking about her mothers. She was too quiet. Rindy was never that quiet and both Jack and Teddy knew that. Before she became completely entranced and without raising any other suspicion from them, she cleared her throat and began chattering away.

“Right, so, Dannie’s contribution was doing the intros to all Harrie’s favorite movies on LCM last week. Jack took us to Fenway for Patriots’ Day. Phil did free admission movie nights at all the Pearls. The girls went up to Yankee Candle - “

“The big one?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, the big one, and they smelled just about every candle jar in the place.”

“Oh my God, she loved doing that. What did you do, Rin?”

Rindy sniffled and opened her purse, rummaging around until her hand appeared grasping two items. “I got her pocketwatch cleaned. Gasket replaced and all that. I also… I also took mom’s pen in; the one Harrie gave her for her birthday,” she laughed, then wiped away one tear immediately followed by another. “One of the ways she helped my moms find their way back to each other. And just so fucking like Harrie to use something as a common as a pen to get herself into the middle of a situation.” Rindy took another deep breath and composed herself before continuing to speak, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “I miss them. I miss all of them so much,” she whispered, repeatedly strumming her index finger along the cool amber pendant of her necklace and occasionally toying with the ring she had cleaned moments earlier. She wanted to go on and on to list the ways in which she missed her mothers and all her aunts, but she didn’t want to do that. Not there. “What about you, Teddy? You haven’t told us what your thing is, dearest.”

Teddy placed the last bite of his It’s-It in his mouth, chewed it slowly, then swallowed. He turned to Rindy, took her hand, and with a faint smile and watery eyes said, “It’s an It’s-It,” before leaning in to give her a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aMlIpQ5pbCk) for _Fantasia_ (1940) dir. by many directors :-D


End file.
